Into the Fire
by suezahn
Summary: Whether things are getting better or worse after the disaster on Hoth really depends on one's point of view. A trip-to-Bespin story and part of my "Kismet" series. Please R&R. Finalized Dec 2009.
1. The rescue

**Into the Fire**

By Susan Zahn

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_Disclaimer: Much as I'd love to be able to retire and live off the proceeds from these stories, I sadly do not own the rights to these brilliant characters. Maybe if you put in a good word for me…?_

_Author's Note: This story is part of a broader story arc, my "_Kismet_" series, that I've been developing over the past two decades—long before any of the prequels, EU books, or other materials came out. While I occasionally borrow proper names from these newer sources (for convenience' sake) I feel no compunction to make my stories conform to any "canon" other than the original saga films. I hope you can enjoy them in the same spirit of freedom that I have felt writing them._

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The moment we choose to love we begin to move towards freedom...  
--Bell Hooks

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.  
--Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 - 1900), _On Reading and Writing_

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**Chapter 1 — The rescue**

The command center on Hoth was in shambles. Heavy, sporadic explosions from the savage conflict raging outside rocked the cramped room, causing equipment and occupants to sway. The latest unnatural quake was violent enough to tip the massive plotting console in the center of the room past the balance point; the tall screen cracked and fell to the icy floor, the loud shatter adding to the chaotic din.

Princess Leia Organa struggled to keep her feet on the trembling floor as she rushed from one station to the next to monitor the battle, even as system after system began to fail. The acrid odor of fried electronics burned her nostrils, yet couldn't mask the coppery tang of blood infusing the air. Despite a throat already hoarse from fumes and anxiety, she shouted out orders.

General Rieekan had made one last attempt to convince her to join the rest of the non-combat personnel on the next transport out. Carlist was an old friend and advisor, one of the few remaining ties to her former life—to a world that no longer existed—but she'd stood firm until he'd relented with a sad smile and a murmured goodbye, leaving her to her chosen fate as he headed outside to lead his troops in the rearguard defense.

Still, she wasn't alone in staying behind to delay the overwhelming Imperial assault; there was a handful of stoic Rebels with her who likewise ignored the orders to evacuate. Tired deep in her soul, the last princess of Alderaan had finally lost her desire to run anymore. The report had come back that Commander Luke Skywalker was shot down, his snowspeeder crushed while leading a brave assault against the approaching Imperial walkers, while Captain Han Solo, having received his requested clearance, was making good on his long-standing threat to leave them—leave her—and face his destiny with Jabba the Hutt. Once again, in a single horrible day, she would be reduced to nothing, and it felt one blow too many.

Many brave fighters were dying for a greater good out on the frozen planet's surface, a cause worthy of their blood. Maybe it was time to make a final stand with them, now that she had lost everything else. It seemed fitting, this one last selfless sacrifice…

_At least this will be quick_.

"Are you all right?" a loud voice called out from across the abyss of the crumbling room.

Leia recognized the deep voice and turned in shock from where she and a fellow Rebel had been hunched over a monitor. Solo stood in the doorway to the command center, his eyes seeking hers in spite of the turmoil between them. A rush of conflicting emotions flooded through her, but anger boiled to the surface. What was he waiting for, the hangar bay to collapse?

"Why are you still here?!"

"I'd heard the command center was hit." Ignoring her chilly reception, he started clearing a path through the rocking, shaking obstacle course of debris.

Still trying to follow the struggle against the invading army outside, she refused to spare him another glance as he climbed over the smashed plotting console. "You've got your clearance to leave."

The bitterness she felt toward him of late, spurred on by his public announcement the day before, that he really intended to leave this time, made her voice as hard and cold as the icy walls surrounding them. She could only guess why he wasn't gone already, but it was obvious now that he intended to rescue her, to interfere with her plans to fight to the end.

"Don't worry, I'll leave. But first I'm gonna get you to your ship." He'd almost reached her now, ignoring the bedlam as he continued on course, locked like a laser targeting system on to her.

See-Threepio, his golden visage glowing in the diminished light and fine ice crystals sifting down from the cracking ceiling, struggled at her side as the ground trembled again. "Your Highness, we must take this last transport. It's our only hope."

The protocol droid's plea stopped Leia for a moment.

_Hope?_ _What hope is there?_

Not only would she die here, but it now appeared that this insane, stubborn Corellian fighting his way toward her would die as well; a pointless gesture considering how hard he worked at denying that this was his fight. But it was _her_ fight, and she planned to take out as many Imperials as she could before it was over. She looked back to the tall smuggler, just as he stepped around a last piece of smashed equipment to reach her side. Not about to let him impede her duty, she dodged and slipped around behind him, out of reach, leaving Han to spin around in disbelief as she stumbled to the other end of the shaking command center.

"Send all troops to Sector Twelve to the south cove to protect the fighters," Leia croaked out to another soldier still seated at his post. No doubt it was the blistering fumes that caused her voice to crack on the last word. There were still ways of escape for those troops outside, where the X-Wings and a few remaining transports were parked for a quick evacuation.

With a loud boom, a more powerful explosion rocked the room, almost knocking them all off their feet. A new wave of fear swept through her with the sudden realization that she was unarmed. The possibility of being captured by the Empire once again roiled her stomach; resolving not to let that happen, she cast a panicked glance around for a blaster. What bitter irony it would be, caught in the middle of a battle without a weapon, in a war she'd helped start.

_There's a fitting epitaph. 'She wasn't prepared.'_

The base PA system crackled to life, echoing around them. "Imperial troops have entered the base. Imperial troops have—" The urgent announcement died in a burst of static.

A strong, irresistible hand clamped onto her upper arm, tight enough to leave a bruise. Solo had caught up, and unable to help herself, she looked up into his face to find a grim expression there that said no more wisecracks, no more games, no more running from him. "Come on, that's it."

In his eyes was unrefined emotion, so raw and open to her for once that the rest of the world fell away from her awareness. Through all the layers of hurt and resentment she'd constructed since his rejection after Ord Mantell weeks ago, for one timeless second it seeped in that Han did still care. Perhaps he knew of her intention today? His hold on her arm tightened until she winced, breaking their silent communication, and she turned her head to the soldier seated in front of her. "Give the evacuation code signal."

With her last duty dispensed, she looked back to Han, suspecting her countenance wasn't nearly as brave as she wanted it to be when the new wave of adrenaline hit her.

_Maybe you aren't ready to die just yet..._

Han pulled her around ahead of him, grabbing her other arm from behind, and steered her toward the exit. Almost too late, she struggled against his unyielding grasp long enough to turn back and give one last order. "And get to your transports!"

Without ceremony, he shoved her through the open hatchway and out into the crumbling corridor.

"Oh! Wait for me!" Threepio called out from behind as they ran for their lives.


	2. The chase

**Chapter 2 — The chase**

The deep canyon of the massive asteroid swiveled around in the _Millennium Falcon_'s canopy with dizzying effect before it slid below Leia's view as the captain righted the ship to skim along the rocky horizon.

Still in shock from the most frightening flying Leia had ever witnessed, let alone experienced, she watched Solo's hands as they moved with deft grace over the flight controls—a caress that left her in equal parts impressed and confused. Despite all the anger and heartache she felt toward him, she had to admit that he was within his rights to brag about this skill. She'd always known he was a talented pilot, but what he just demonstrated in their escape from Hoth left her in dumbstruck awe. How could the Alliance ever afford to lose such a valuable asset?

Because of Han, she could now say she'd flown through an Imperial task force _and_ an asteroid belt—it would be quite a story to tell, assuming she survived long enough to share it with anyone.

Fascinated by something below her field of vision, Han nudged his co-pilot and pointed toward the barren, pockmarked surface. "There. That looks pretty good."

In spite of a stubborn reluctance to interact with him, curiosity made Leia shift to the edge of the navigator's chair. Unable to see anything remarkable, she stood and stepped between Han and Chewbacca to peer out below the helm. "What looks pretty good?"

"Yeah. That'll do nicely."

Annoyed that he was keeping her in the dark, Leia was about to demand an explanation, but Threepio chimed in first. "Excuse me, ma'am, but where are we going?"

Leia shrugged at the protocol droid. As if she understood this baffling man.He was a walking—swaggering!—contradiction.

The tableau before them spun again as Solo executed a banking turn, then steered the _Falcon_ toward a gaping hole in the floor of the wide canyon. Only then did it dawn on Leia what he had in mind. Nodding her head, she could see the logic now. He was a smuggler, after all—he was going to ground like a hunted chenik in hopes the Imperials would think them destroyed along with the hapless squad of TIE-fighters that had followed them into the lethal chaos of the asteroid field.

_It could work. _

"I hope you know what you're doing," the princess said in a soft tone, her unease refusing to go away despite the secluded shelter they'd found.

"Yeah, me too," Han echoed her sentiment, some of his usual bravado dampened by the recent failing of the hyperdrive, his pride and joy.

_The humbling suits him. He could do with a bit more of it before I'm satisfied. _

Within minutes, Han brought the ship to a stop, setting her down on the floor of the wide cave. They had traveled deep enough within the cavern that the entrance was little more than a pin-prick of light, and the exterior floodlights of the ship cast strange shadows along the curving walls around them. Something about their smooth appearance niggled at the edge of Leia's conscience, but she was no geologist; too grateful for the refuge to worry further, Leia let out a sigh and settled back into her seat. "What do you have planned for your next trick?"

"She calls that a trick," Solo mumbled to his co-pilot.

"[I'd call that a miracle,]" Chewie responded.

Over time and with some effort, Leia's understanding of Shyriiwook had improved to the point that a vindicated smile touched her lips now; she could always count on the Wookiee to help take Han's ego down a notch into the tolerable range.

Han spared an acerbic glance for both of them. "Well, you can all thank me later. Right now we've got a lot of work to do, and this is the closest we're gonna get to a docking bay for repairs."

"How long do you think we can stay in here?" Unsettling thoughts arose as she watched them go through the procedures of shutting down the engines. Was he intending only a few hours or days, or longer? What if they couldn't repair the damage?

"Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they'll get tired and go home if we don't come out to play."

"Sir," Threepio interjected, "the sensors indicate that there is an atmosphere inside this cave. It is not breathable, but there _is_ gravity and air pressure."

They all gave the droid mystified looks.

Glancing back out at the cavern, Han shrugged one shoulder. "Just as well. We might need to go out there for repairs."

"It doesn't make sense…" Leia wondered aloud, her eyes fixed unseeing at the spot where the _Falcon_'s floodlights ended in the darkness outside. Something didn't feel right; some intuition told her the Imperials wouldn't give up so easily.

"What doesn't make sense?" Solo prompted, sparing her a look as he climbed out of his seat.

Blinking back to the present, she shifted her gaze up to meet his. "Why all this effort for one ship? This old freighter isn't exactly the best catch of the day. Why three star destroyers and Vader's flagship?"

Forehead creased in concentration, as though his thoughts had just become attuned with her own, Han paused as he loomed over her. "Yeah, that's a good question."

Chewbacca swiveled his seat and offered the sort of insight Leia often found valuable if not a bit opaque. "[Perhaps it's not just the ship they're after.]"

Everyone looked to the Wookiee, taking a second to let the words sink in.

"What are you talking about, you big dust mop?" Han chided.

"[I mean, what if they believe someone in particular is aboard this ship?]"

Han's hazel eyes flicked back to Leia and she could almost read her thoughts. Self-conscious, she looked away, anywhere but at him; while his gaze was not accusing, she nonetheless felt guilty of being the reason for the Imperial hounding. If what Chewbacca said was true, their roles had reversed and now she was the one endangering them all by just being there. "Then they won't give up," she said in a small voice, finishing the notion.

"Oh dear!" Threepio fretted from the communications station behind Chewie.

"Hey, there's no way they'd know you're on my ship," Han attempted to lighten the mood. "You were scheduled to leave on a transport, remember? Besides, they've lost too many pilots to asteroids already. It'll get too costly at this rate."

Leia tipped her head to give him a dissatisfied frown, knowing him too well to assume he believed half of what he'd just uttered. "Since when has the Empire cared about cost?"

Han waved her off. "They won't find us. We're safe for now. You still remember how to use a fuser?"

Needing a moment to shift mental gears, Leia nodded. As if she would ever forget—or forgive—that little lesson two years ago while still based on the fourth moon of Yavin, when he'd taught her a new skill, and she'd also learned that the man was not afraid of embarrassing her for his own amusement. The memory of unwittingly sporting his large greasy handprint on her ass for the entire base to see only served to reignite her anger, momentarily forgotten in the sudden calm.

"Good. Stay here and help Chewie. First thing we need to do is fix the shield controls." He pointed to the panel of lights and switches beside the co-pilot's station. "I'll go back and reroute them manually so they stop shorting out." With that, he left the cockpit.

Chewbacca stood and stepped around behind his seat to better access the controls in question. "[Princess, do you understand the mechanics of the shield systems?]"

Shaking her head, Leia sighed in realization of how little she would be able to contribute. Knowing how to use instruments and systems while in flight was one thing; understanding how they worked was something entirely different. "No, not really. Just point me where you want me to go and tell me what to do."

"Your Highness," See-Threepio spoke up. "I will be more than happy to explain the schematics of a typical shielding system—although I've no doubt that my friend Artoo-Detoo could do a better job if he were here…"

Rising to her feet, she waved a hand in hopes of cutting off any more. "Another time, Threepio."

"Of course, Your Highness, it would be my pleasure. Please feel free to ask me at your convenience."

That made Leia roll her eyes as she turned away.

_I think I'd rather be interrogated again._

Stripping off her thermal gloves, she tossed them into her seat and then stepped up beside Chewbacca to look at the field of lights and toggles decorating the curved starboard wall of the cockpit.

Not having the first clue where to start, she waited as Chewbacca dug out a hydrospanners from a pocket in the back of his chair, and then handed it to her. "[Solo trusts you to help with repairs and that's good enough for me.]"

"He does?" Surprised, she wasn't sure which bewildered her more, Han's best friend and partner telling her this news, or the very concept of Captain Solo trusting his ship to anyone other than Chewie.

"[He trusts you a great deal.]"

Too late, she realized that Chewie was analyzing her reaction and her cheeks grew warm.

"[I like you, Princess. You are a good match for Solo.]"

With a spasm of doubt about her translating skills, Leia wondered if she'd heard him wrong. Whatever had triggered this unanticipated channel of communication between them was beyond her, but she couldn't afford to go there, not about Han, not now. Still, Chewbacca was a friend and deserved a response. "I like you, too, Chewie…I'll miss you."

The Wookiee nodded, offering his version of a gentle smile; his bared fangs were a sight that might have frightened most beings who didn't know him. "[We have a common goal.]" Not bothering to explain his mystifying comment any further, he changed the subject by reaching up to pop off the protective paneling from the starboard cockpit wall, exposing the mysteries of the _Falcon_'s defense systems. Setting the paneling to the side, he folded out some sort of apparatus from within the jumble of wires. "[Please grip this with the hydrospanners, turn it to the right, and hold it there until I tell you to let it go.]"

"Okay." She stepped up, fitted the tool around the part until it was snug, and then gave it the requested twist. Not only did she meet resistance, but she had to hold it in place to keep it from rotating back. No wonder this required two sets of hands. Chewie moved closer, reaching his long arms around her to begin working with the wiring.

The hatch of the cockpit slid open once more and Han moved past them to begin flipping switches on the forward dash. "I'm going to shut down everything but the emergency power systems."

As a result, the lighting in the cockpit dimmed to just the emergency panel lights and colored control indicators. Chewie's revelation moments earlier still threatened to throw off her concentration, but Leia didn't dare take her eyes away from what they were doing.

_Ignore him. You've got a lot more to worry about right now than wondering what motivates Han Solo._

At the captain's announcement, Threepio turned around within the cramped confines of the cabin to face him. "Sir, I'm almost afraid to ask, but...does that include shutting me down, too?"

Chewie barked, "[Yes.]"

"No," Han countered, shaking his head, his tone condescending, "I need you to talk to the _Falcon_, find out what's wrong with the hyperdrive."

Without warning, the entire ship lurched, nearly causing everything not strapped down—including her passengers—to go flying across the cramped cockpit. The only thing keeping Leia from losing her balance was her grip on the clamped hydrospanners and a supportive hand from the Wookiee behind her, even as he howled in alarm.. As the _Falcon_ settled they all cast a renewed look of alarm out the canopy into the dark cave beyond.

Threepio exhibited his usual grasp of the obvious. "Sir, it's quite possible this asteroid is not entirely stable."

"Not entirely stable? I'm glad you're here to tell us these things." His sarcasm so thick even the clueless protocol droid could detect it, Han jerked a thumb toward the rear of the ship in annoyance. "Chewie, take the professor in the back and plug him into the hyperdrive."

"[My pleasure.]"

"Oh!" Threepio protested as he was pulled out of the cockpit by the Wookiee. "Sometimes I just don't understand human behavior. After all, I'm only trying to do my job in the most—" The rest of his indignant objection was cut off as the hatch slid closed after them.

Still standing with her back to Solo, holding the whatever-it-was in place, Leia debated what to do. Chewie hadn't told her to let go yet. The problem was resolved a moment later as the ship lurched, this time with enough violence that the hydrospanners slipped and she was tossed backwards. Rather than crashing against the navcomp console, she found herself landing in the far more comfortable lap of Han as they fell into the navigator's chair together. As the ship continued to rattle, his strong arms wrapped around her to form a secure circle of protection.

A few more seconds passed before Leia became conscious of the fact that Han had done more than just prevent serious bruising or outright injury. She glanced down to find his hands clasped around her midriff, his arms tightening, and a wave of memories of another time when he'd held her this way, a romantic evening of dancing and dizzying emotions while on Ord Mantell, surged past her mental floodgates. Leaning forward, she tried to break free of his hold. "Let go."

"Ssshh!" A distant tremor rumbled around the _Falcon_, and Han held up a finger to silence her protest.

She stopped struggling and tried to join him in worrying about what was happening outside, but her mind refused to cooperate. Distress crept into her voice now and it was enough to draw all of his attention to her. "Let go, please!"

"Don't get excited," he said in exasperation.

_Why does he insist on making everything sexual?_

"Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited," she sniped, her anger flaring up at his insinuation.

"Sorry, Sweetheart." In a rare display of deliberate physicality, Solo moved his hands up her sides to grip beneath her armpits, then hoisted her up off his lap and planted her on the decking with a solid thump.

Leia swung around, incensed by the manhandling, but was derailed by his wicked grin.

"We haven't got time for anything else," he finished with a sensual purr before exiting the cockpit.

Denied her chance to formulate a response, Leia spun away. She'd tried to bluff indifference and he'd seen right through her—and worse yet, he'd called her on it. "Right," she mouthed in disgust, nodding her head as if any of this made sense anymore. She was out of her element and out of her depth with him, and he knew it. Pure aggravation made her punch an innocent spot of cockpit paneling, but it was a poor substitute and it hurt.

_This day just keeps getting better and better._


	3. The kiss

**Chapter 3 — The kiss**

The next few hours were a steady exercise in multi-tasking for Han as he roamed from repair to repair, either completing them himself or monitoring those done by his ad hoc crew. Since their main toolbox and all its contents was scattered at the bottom of the claustrophobic maintenance pit, he and Chewie had managed to scrounge up enough spare tools stashed elsewhere aboard the ship to do makeshift repairs. All things considered, they were making progress. Despite the little diversion in the cockpit earlier, the shield systems were back on line, and he felt confident that the hyperdrive was as well; of course there was no way to test it until the moment of truth, but everything appeared to indicate it was fixed.

In no hurry to leave their hiding spot, he'd called a break so they could eat and regroup their energies. What had started as a good mood from surreptitiously watching the princess eat, however, had fizzled into irritation at her choice of conversation topics. She'd started by bringing up concern for Luke, and while he shared her worry about their friend, a dark thought from a shadowy corner of Han's mind whispered that she was taking another jab at him. Then she revived speculation as to why the Empire was pouring so much manpower into chasing down one ship ('this wired-together junk pile' was absolutely another jab at him) when half the Alliance was routed and in disorder. To make matters worse, a steady thumping and rumbling began to vibrate through the ship at that time, too rhythmic to be natural on a solid rock of that size. It was enough to prove her point, and the general consensus was that the Imperials were stepping up their hunt, narrowing their search, and now bombarding the massive asteroid in an attempt to flush them out. Those facts pretty much guaranteed Leia would remain in an unpleasant disposition, and it was feeling contagious.

Hands on hips, in the middle of the main hold, Han stood and chewed the inside of a cheek as he paused in his work. His ship was still in desperate need of attention, and yet his mind kept circling back to Leia as if she were on his check-off list of things he needed to fix. Surely all she needed was a good reminder of when they'd been on much friendlier terms—a good kiss to restart the passion he'd discovered weeks ago.

_But that's the trick, isn't it? Getting her into that mood sort of requires her already being prone to it. _

There was a way to short-circuit her defensive systems, but he'd yet to find a method that didn't usually backfire. What was worse, from the looks of things, he'd maybe done irreparable damage and there was precious little time left to fix things. Because he still intended to depart as soon as she was back with the Fleet, any sort regretful goodbye at that point, or any glimmer of hope that she wanted him to come back, would have to start emerging pretty damned quick.

So far he'd done a fine job of botching things up between them, forfeiting much of the ground he'd gained over the past year. News of the astronomical bounty on his head, along with events on Ord Mantell, had forced his decision to push Leia away before either of them could become any more involved, and yet he couldn't seem to help himself. At first he'd tried to give her up by rejecting her tentative invitation for more. Then he'd changed his mind again and tried to pull her back while on Hoth, desperate to revive what they'd started while on her mission to the space station. But it was clear now that he was failing spectacularly at both efforts.

To be honest, he didn't know what he was doing anymore. There was no question that he wanted to seduce her. Convince her. Love her. But there was a nagging sense of conscience about what would probably happen afterward. He found himself worrying about leaving the princess heartbroken; it was a concern that had never even occurred to him in affairs of the past, and yet it was enough to make him hesitate with Leia. Maybe it was because he was loathe to add more pain to her life, or maybe it was because some part of him cared about what she thought of him, even in his absence. Maybe he just respected her too much. He was probably guilty of all the above, and yet he still sought this from her, as if he needed confirmation that it hadn't been a fluke that night when she'd welcomed his advances. For two years he'd received conflicting messages from her, but if he could be sure that she felt the same despite his past and his future…well, at least then there would be a sliver of hope, something to look forward to if he survived Jabba's wrath and returned.

Things weren't looking very promising at the moment, however. Responding only in clipped, impersonal answers, the princess had immersed herself in the repairs he'd assigned to her in the circuitry bay adjacent to the main hold. The tiny room was nothing more than a corner with two entrances, but it was the central nervous system for the entire ship. Whenever passing by, he couldn't resist looking in to check on her, but she refused to pay him any attention. Even the irregular blue flash from her macrofuser felt angry.

_Buddy, you really touched a nerve this time, didn't you? _

Standing in front of the _Falcon_'s main engineering station in the central hold, Threepio attempted to communicate with the freighter's unorthodox computer systems with a whistling and beeping language not unlike an astrotech droid, but the series of beeps and whistles he got in response appeared to flummox the protocol droid. "Oh, where is Artoo when I need him?" he lamented.

Irritated by the interruption of his thoughts, Han stepped next to the droid to retrieve a coil of new wire from a supply case.

"Sir, I don't know where your ship learned to communicate, but it has the most peculiar dialect. I believe, sir, it says that the power coupling on the negative axis has been polarized. I'm afraid you'll have to replace it."

Han stopped, shot the obnoxious interpreter a dirty look, and then stooped to run a quick test by routing power through the system in question. Annoyed to have the droid point out something so obvious that he'd somehow overlooked, he snapped, "Well, of course I'll have to replace it."

Muttering about the relative worth of droids, Han walked back to stand under the open hatch of the overhead compartment where Chewie was replacing burned out wiring. "Here!"

Chewbacca's shaggy head appeared in the square hatch, and Han passed up the spare wire. "And Chewie…" He cast a quick glance to see if Threepio was still watching him, then added in a more subdued voice, "I think we'd better replace the negative power coupling."

"[Good idea.]"

Irked by the confirmation, Han gave a moody _hrmmph_. Shaking his head, he found himself wandering back toward the circuitry bay, and reasoned that it was time to check in on the princess again. He arrived just as she finished up welding a series of ion flow valves back into place. After hanging the set of protective goggles on a convenient makeshift hook, she began snapping closed the various safety latches. However, the main handle to reengage the system only turned halfway before jamming. There followed a battle of wills, princess versus lever, with neither budging.

Han was tempted to just watch the epic struggle, but recognizing his chance to maybe reopen communications, he moved up behind her, his instinct to reach around and combine their strength to the task. The instant they touched, she pushed back against him with her entire body, nearly throwing him into the circuitry behind them. Surprised by the hostility and the angry glare she added for good measure, he held his hands up and away as if he'd been burned. "Hey, Your Worship, I'm only trying to help."

Returning her attention to the recalcitrant lever, Leia seemed to redirect most her anger toward the frozen handle. "Would you _please_…stop calling me that?"

Han swore there was a new tone in her voice, but wasn't sure he'd identified it properly. It wasn't forgiveness, whatever it was. Captivated, he watched her struggle. "Sure, Leia." Although he rarely used it, he liked saying her real name—maybe it was the way it rolled on his tongue like a fine wine.

Shaking her head, she gave the unmovable lever another try. "You make it so difficult sometimes."

Not sure if she was more frustrated with him or his ship, but happy to let her take it out on the _Falcon_ if it meant she kept talking like this, he nodded. It was a worthy sacrifice. "I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though," he prodded, watching for her reaction. "Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I'm all right."

Still straining, she gave the handle one last frustrated twist; her reward was to whack a knuckle on the curved guard when her grip slipped. With a wince, she let go and sucked on the injured finger to keep it from bleeding. "Occasionally… Maybe..."

That was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, and he pounced. Catching her injured hand in his own, he applied a gentle massage and his best look of deep concern.

The sudden change in tactics made Leia back away, but she ran out of room in the corner of the tiny alcove. "When you aren't acting like a scoundrel," she qualified, her chin lifting at a regal tilt, indicating that's exactly what he was doing at the moment.

"Scoundrel?" he repeated in disbelief. It sounded so starry-eyed, like something out of a trashy romance novel. He'd never pegged her as the dreamy type, but then again he barely knew this side of Leia. So far he liked what he was finding. Amused and encouraged, his voice dropped to an intimate rumble as he smiled. ""_Scoundrel_?' I like the sound of that."

Too late she seemed to realize her comment had the opposite effect of its intended purpose and she made a half-hearted attempt to retrieve her hand. "Stop that."

There was a new thread of emotion in her voice, something more vulnerable, unsure.

"Stop what?"

Flushed and confused, she glanced down to watch as his fingers worked into her palm. He could feel the conflict as her hand began to open up and relax under his caress, even as she made one last halfhearted effort to pull it away. "Stop _that_. My hands are dirty."

"My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?"

"Afraid?"

For the first time she met his eyes without wavering, repeating the word as if he'd accused her of something far worse, and he realized he'd just found the gap in her armor. There were few things that frightened Leia Organa; he'd had the fortune—or to be more accurate the misfortune—of witnessing a few of them over the years. Intimacy with anyone, but particularly with him, often seemed to fall into that tiny category, and he supposed she had some reason to be wary of it. And yet the very mention of this fact seemed to summon the streak of courage within her that he had always admired. With that one word, their encounter had just turned into a challenge, a dare, and it was something he knew she was incapable of resisting.

As her entire forearm came to rest against his chest, thoughts of her enthusiastic response to his touch that night on Ord Mantell compelled him on. "You're trembling."

"I'm not trembling." Her denial didn't negate the fact that her tone had dropped to a tremulous, intimate intensity to match his, or that she seemed incapable of looking away.

"You like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life."

Leia shook her head with such a lack of conviction that he knew he was on the right track.

"I happen to like nice men." It was a last-ditch attempt to prevent a complete route, but her eager whisper foiled the effect. The distance between them had shrunk enough that he had to tip his head to the side to avoid their bumping noses.

At last in complete agreement, he nodded. "I'm nice men."

"No, you're not. You're—"

Her last protest died as their lips met in a slow, hot, undeniable kiss that melted any further resistance. She tasted so sweet, the hint of fruit from her meal earlier adding an exotic flavor to the kisses already burned into his memory. His hands dropped to her sides, pulling her closer, as he took his time. He was rewarded when the hand against his chest shifted and moved up to his neck, the fingers gliding into his hair to hold him still. Intense arousal coursed through him at her touch, like he'd just been hotwired into the power grid surrounding them. She must have felt it, too, because her mouth moved against his with sudden hunger, as if starved after weeks of fasting, and there was a mutual gasp for air.

A familiar and unwelcomed whir of servomotors behind Han broke into his awareness as Threepio appeared in the doorway of the circuitry bay, his cultured voice excited and oblivious to what he was interrupting. "Sir! Sir! I've isolated the reverse power flux coupling."

The mood utterly wrecked, Han opened his eyes as he felt her break away, her expression indecipherable. He pivoted to face the tactless protocol droid and crowd him out of the entrance. "Thank you! Thank you very much."

"Oh, you're perfectly welcome, sir."

Rotating back with every intention of picking up where they'd left off, his banked excitement sputtered out upon discovering he was alone; Leia had slipped out the other entrance, running away just like the last time. For a moment he considered chasing after her, convinced this was his last chance to make things right between them, but then he sighed. It was enough to make a guy question what the hell was wrong with him, if he kept having that effect on her.

Muttering dire threats for useless droids, Han tried to calm his pounding heart and return his attention to the problem lever. He gave the handle an unenthusiastic crank, and it locked up just as it had for the princess.

_Will _nothing_ on this damned ship cooperate with me anymore?! _

"Chewie! Get down here and give me a hand."

"[My wife would disapprove of me doing that sort of handiwork.]"

Scowling over his shoulder, Han realized too late that the Wookiee had an upside-down but otherwise clear view into the alcove, and must have watched their little interlude in mute enjoyment. "Very funny, you pervert. Your wife would disapprove of half the things you do if she ever found out. Just get down here and get this blasted thing back online—it's jammed."

Disgusted with his recent luck, he abandoned the lever and stalked back into the main hold to tackle the next failure on his agenda. It was going to be a long day.


	4. The thought

**Chapter 4 — The thought**

Leia's rushed stumble had slowed to a stately pace by the time she entered the short passageway leading to the cockpit. Still short of breath from the kiss and her hurried exit, she punched the hatch plate and waited for the door to slide closed behind before falling back against its unyielding surface.

"Get a grip," she hissed. Feeling as though exposed too long to binary suns at mid-day, she took a series of deep breaths in an attempt to calm her pulse and mind. She pressed her open palms against the cool metal door holding her up, and then lifted one to her forehead.

When Han had made it quite clear weeks ago that he was no longer interested in a relationship, she'd gone into a new level of denial of her own feelings, finding reasons to hate him. His extended absence afterward while making supply runs to the Rebel base on Sullust had allowed her the time to nurture that negativity. She'd convinced herself that he'd taken advantage of her momentary weakness while on Ord Mantell; that he'd never had any intentions of a serious relationship. But since his arrival on Hoth days ago, he'd begun flipping back and forth, alternately teasing and rejecting her like it was some cruel sport, an exasperating dance that trampled on her emotions, stinging and infuriating at the same time. Now he'd reversed course once again, as if he could just pick up where they'd left off on Ord Mantell—as if none of the hurt had happened in between.

She wanted to curse Solo's insolence for taking a kiss like that, as though he had the right, but discovered her outrage was muddled, diluted.

_You didn't exactly fight him off, did you?_

Unable to recall ever being so at odds with herself, so out of sync with her own thoughts and reactions, her response to his touch terrified her for the sudden rush of passion defeated every conscious effort to cast him off. Weeks ago those feelings had seemed more appropriate, with their situation a little more clear…but now, with their lives in immediate danger once again and with him about to leave, with no promise or likelihood of returning, her reaction was unwelcome and against her best interests.

Anger swirled within the mix. Why did he keep dragging these things out of her if he had no intention of staying? Just to torture her? Just so he could brag he'd scored a leader of the Rebellion, the last princess of Alderaan?

Using a shoulder to push away from the hatch, she moved further into the cockpit, gripped a headrest in her hands, and dug her fingers into the cushioning.

_It was just a kiss. Just another kiss. _

She'd kissed a few men in her time. A respectable number, respectable men… So what if none of them stirred her like Han did? So what if he was the first to kiss _her_?

It had been years since the last time anyone besides Han had touched her for a purpose other than physical assistance. Although raised in a demonstrative family and culture, where affection was shared and encouraged, her life since the horrors of the _Death Star_ had become devoid of that simple pleasure. Sometimes she gave in to the instinct to hug or give an innocent kiss to Luke, but he never initiated the contact, perhaps out of shyness or propriety. It was as if people preferred to keep their distance. There were times when she suspected it was due to pity, or maybe they saw her as too aloof or delicate to be touched; a royal icon to be admired or pitied, but always from afar. Immersed as she was now within a community of like-minded people, she hadn't expected to feel so alone, so isolated. The exception, of course, was Han. Never intimidated by her title or influence (his inventive nicknames were a ceaseless testament to that), any respect he paid her instead seemed to stem from her individuality, bolstered by a surprising streak of chivalry. Then again, it was obvious he had ulterior motives, and the escalating physical contact from him over the past year was not by accident. But, despite her common sense, she had come to secretly crave his attention and his touch…

Damn him, but it'd be just like the Corellian to be skulking about in the greasiest service pit of his beloved ship at that very moment, basking in his ability to disrupt any semblance of coherent thought she might have. Was that his goal, to drive her insane?

As if to drill home the point, Leia belatedly realized she'd made a strategic error in heading for the cockpit rather than her cabin. It wasn't the wisest choice of sanctuaries if her intention was to hole up and reassemble her composure. Sighing, she glanced over the panels of darkened indicator lights and sensor screens. It felt odd to see the controls powered down, the cabin still and peaceful; she rarely spent any time in the cramped cockpit unless she felt her presence was required, and could probably count on one hand the number of times she'd been there alone.

Moving forward, she stood in front of the console between the pilot and co-pilot seats. First instincts aside, hiding was not a viable option; soon enough she would have to face Captain Solo again. How she treated the situation would be her decision. Indignation had always served her well in the past, but it wasn't a legitimate response anymore; being an enthusiastic collaborator had nullified that defense. Feigning innocence or amnesia worked in the holo-dramas, but this was real life. Anger, on the other hand, was a viable option for she was sick of being toyed with.

Leia's dark eyes drifted to the cockpit canopy and the misty asteroid cave beyond. Was it any wonder, really, why she felt so conflicted? Her opinions of him were as varied and contradictory as the man himself: dependable, yet unpredictable; selflessly loyal, yet conceited to a fault; a near-genius at times, but astoundingly obtuse at others. His reassuring and energizing presence at once seemed to threaten her unflagging dedication to the Alliance and the emotional barriers shielding her from further loss, and yet because he could make her laugh, seethe, and indeed tremble with little more than a wink, he was a handsome, thrilling, challenging, and irresistible puzzle. She was right to call him a scoundrel—who else would be flattered by such a moniker? But he was also correct to point out his behavior as a reason why she liked him in the first place. Whether she liked or loathed him—and that seemed to change from minute to minute—she seemed incapable of indifference toward him…

The unexpected swish of the cockpit hatch caused Leia to jump. She turned around, expecting to meet a pair of mocking hazel eyes, but instead found herself looking into glowing photoreceptors. "What, Threepio?" she snapped, and then cringed.

_So much for etiquette, Organa._

The droid shuffled in. "Oh, there you are, Your Highness. When I could not locate you, I inquired of Captain Solo as to your whereabouts, and he suggested looking here. I must say that he was quite rude. Of course, I have come to expect a certain lack of refinement when dealing with Captain Solo, but I do believe he has become notably worse. I feel it is my duty to inform you that he has really gone too far. He has threatened to spot-weld me to the _Millennium Falcon_'s outer hull in an attempt to increase its shielding."

Unable to do little more than stare at the pompous droid throughout his tirade, Leia clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud.

_Let's add a vivid imagination to that inventory list_.

Apparently nonplused by her reaction, Threepio voiced his concern. "With all due respect, Your Highness, I do not find this present state of affairs in the least bit humorous. He seemed quite serious, and I do believe Chewbacca would assist."

Unable to dislodge the mental image from her mind, Leia forced herself to respond. "What would you suggest I do?"

His positronic brain seemingly ill-prepared for such an answer, let alone solving the dilemma, the golden droid uttered an amazing imitation of a human stammer, and then waved a metallic arm in a gesture of frustration, servomotors whirring in the quiet cockpit. "Might I suggest that you speak with him concerning this matter? After all, I am a very valuable and necessary companion, as I am sure you are aware. It isn't a fault in _my_ programming if Captain Solo is unable to realize this as well. Mistress Leia, I have no doubt that you can make him see reason. If only he would appreciate my efforts to help with repairs."

_Whatever gave him the impression I can make Han Solo _do_ anything?_

Nodding to reassure the droid, although she could just imagine Han's reaction if she were to broach the subject of Threepio's worth any time soon, she switched topics. "What did you want to see me about?"

"Oh yes, I quite forgot! Captain Solo has sent me to inform you that he has succeeded in re-engaging the ion flow valve you were working on earlier."

"I see." Wondering if that was a gentle dig from Han—a reminder that they still had work to do—or a dismissal from further duties, she wasn't pleased with either. "Was that all?"

"Yes, Your Highness." He paused. "Perhaps I should return to my attempts to communicate with this ship's computer. I must say, it is most recalcitrant." With that final observation, Threepio turned and disappeared back through the hatch.

_Spot-welded to the outer hull?_

Leia chewed her bottom lip and considered their absurd situation. Han was truly upset if his threat was enough to alarm even this oblivious droid, yet she was perplexed by his intentions. What had he hoped to achieve by that kiss if he was only going to leave as soon as they rejoined the fleet at the rendezvous?

_Maybe _he_ was the one more afraid of not getting that goodbye kiss._

Once more lost in contemplation, Leia ran a finger along a leather seam of the seat beside her. The sense of duty her father had drilled into her since childhood demanded she return to assisting with repairs without further delay, and Han did need all the help he could get. A frivolous excuse like brooding over an uninvited kiss was not a legitimate reason to shirk her responsibility as a passenger-cum-crew member, but the only problem was that she didn't _feel_ like going back yet. In all honesty, she didn't know what she felt anymore, other than a sharp steady ache in the vicinity of her heart. A part of her wanted to run away—away from him, away _with_ him, away from everyone who demanded something from her. Never one to avoid responsibility, this sudden urge to duck now was unfamiliar. Nothing made any sense anymore.

Perturbed, she flopped into Chewbacca's station, not bothering to straighten her poor posture. Instead she slumped a bit further before propping an elbow on the chair's armrest and resting a temple on her fist as she stared at the empty pilot's position.

_So what if we kissed again? Nothing else has changed._ _What's his game, blowing hot and cold like this?_

Maybe it was easy for him to switch back and forth on a whim, but it was tearing her apart.

As long as she'd known Han, she'd endured his teasing, cursed his bluntness, tolerated his irreverence, enjoyed his humor, appreciated his friendship, admired his bravery, and in general taken his presence for granted. It was the truth whenever she declared he was a major asset to the Alliance; his piloting skills were unmatched, his instinctive assumption of authority was sound, and his unconventional manner of problem solving often revealed a deft ability to assess every situation with speed and decisiveness. All of those qualities were attributes of a natural leader, and the fact that the troops respected and accepted him despite his lack of rank was confirmation of it.

But the truth didn't end there and he clearly knew it. The reality was she'd grown to need him every bit as much as did the Rebellion, and although she knew deep down that his leaving was inevitable now, she could no longer imagine life without him. He'd provided a higher ground during the flood of tragedy after Alderaan; it was rocky ground, without a doubt, yet solid and priceless. What would a day be like without regular doses of his attractive and maddening smile, without watching him swagger from one Rebel base to the next? What would it be like to no longer hear his voice, no longer feel it resonate through her entire body, leaving her senses humming and her emotions jangled?

A new sound invaded Leia's awareness, one unlike the gentle hum of the few running ship's systems, the erratic clanging of the crew making repairs in back, and the irregular concussive thumping of the Imperial bombardment. On instinct, she glanced up toward the cockpit canopy, wondering if she'd imagined the faint scraping sound coming from outside. There seemed to be a shift in the shadows created by the exterior floodlights, then suddenly much closer a flurry of motion brushed past the viewport. Frowning, she sat upright and peered deeper into the foggy gloom, curiosity overriding her well-developed sense of caution.

Without further warning, something slick and disgusting struck against the canopy pane and Leia jerked back in her seat with a start. Had something fallen from the ceiling of the cave? Baffled, she eased forward and stood to get a closer look, squinting up at the foreign object. At that moment two appendages appeared, attached to large yellow eyes that blinked back at her. With a startled shriek, Leia stumbled backward, spun away, and almost smacked into the closed hatch. Slapping blindly at the palm plate, she spared a glance back to see the creature, whatever it was, wriggling across her view and leaving a trail of slime on the transparisteel.

That was enough. When the hatch slid open, she tore down the short corridor and into the main hold, then skidded to a halt in the middle of the room, interrupting yet another debate between man and droid.

"There's something out there!"

Crouched over some bit of exposed circuitry, both Han and Chewbacca paused, the blue arc of the macrofuser sputtering to a stop as they looked up at her. Raising a hand to shove his protective goggles up onto his forehead, Han stared at her as if she'd blown a fuse.

_If he says one thing about that damned kiss, I'll kill him. I swear I will._

But Han's expression remained all business. "Where?"

"Outside, in the cave."

As if to prove her point, there was a loud banging against the outer hull that caused both smugglers to straightened up and rip off their goggles.

"[She's right, something _is_ out there.]"

Threepio waved his golden arms in alarm. "There it is. Listen! Listen!"

Having heard enough, Han marched toward the bank of rebreathers hanging near the boarding ramp, with Chewbacca right behind. "I'm going out there," he announced, his voice determined, as though he'd run out of patience with all the delays and troubles that plagued him.

"Are you crazy?!" She had no idea what was out there, but leaving the relative safety of the ship seemed the epitome of foolishness. What did he think he was going to do, duel it out?

"I just got this bucket back together. I'm not going to let something tear it apart."

Torn between her apprehension of the unknown and concern that he might need her help, she gave up. "Oh, then I'm going with you!" Snagging another breathing mask, she rushed to strap it on over her face as she strode after them.

The atmosphere was warm and humid against her exposed skin, not at all what she was expecting, as the ramp dropped and came to a rest on the cave floor. Blaster already drawn from the low-slung holster at his thigh, Han gripped a ramp strut with his free hand, and then leaned out to tap the ground with a single foot, as if testing the water before diving in. He took a cautious first step, then another.

Working up her own nerve, Leia followed suit, moving out onto the spongy surface. "This ground sure feels strange. It doesn't feel like rock."

"There's an awful lot of moisture in here," Han added. His voice was muffled by the rebreather, but his puzzlement rang clear.

"I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah."

As Han began moving away, stepping around to inspect the _Falcon_, Leia trailed behind him and peered out into the murky gloom beyond the reach of the freighter's floodlights. Something didn't feel right about this, not at all. She still wasn't sure how it was even possible they could be walking around like this without an envirosuit, let alone what could be living here in what they'd assumed to be a barren rock.

A sudden scurrying sound made Leia spin around.

"Watch out!" Quick as lightning, Han drew a bead with his blaster and fired. His aim was true and the creature cried out as it fell from the underside of the _Falcon_'s tail section. "It's all right, it's all right." He stepped closer and nudged the crumpled body with his booted toe, then glanced back to the ship. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Mynock. Chewie, check the rest of the ship, make sure there are no more attached…Chewing on the power cables."

"Mynocks?" Arms wrapped around her chest as she stared down at the dead creature, Leia shuddered; she'd never heard of them. As if they'd needed one more complication. Looking back up toward the inky black of the ceiling above, she wondered if the hint of movement was just her imagination or a trick of the eye.

"Go on inside," Han said to her. "We'll clean them off if there are any more."

Secretly relieved to be dismissed, Leia turned, only to be caught in a flurry of fluttering leathery wings that swooped past her, one of them close enough to graze her head. A basic fear of it tangling in her braided hair made Leia shriek, and she flung her arms up over her head. Abandoning poise, she dashed back toward the ramp.

A moment later Chewbacca fired at one of the creatures with the bowcaster he'd brought along, but the bolt went wide and disappeared into darkness beyond. An instant later the cavern rumbled with a little earthquake.

Han swung around to stare out into the blackness, his eyes betraying his new concern. "Weird…"

From the relative safety below the hull of the ship, Leia stopped to watch as he leveled his blaster at the cave floor and fired.

The ground buckled beneath their feet as the entire cavern began to roil around them, strong enough to make them stagger. Too late in grabbing onto the ship for support, Leia pitched backward and would have fallen if Han hadn't arrived in time to catch and tip her forward. She latched onto the closest ramp strut and hugged tight as the entire cave seemed to heave up in seismic complaint. Whatever Han had started showed no signs of stopping this time, and he ran past her and up the ramp. Chewbacca leapt onto the ramp a moment later as it began to rise with them still on it.

"All right, Chewie, let's get out of here!" Han yelled, already powering up all the ship's flight systems from the engineering station in the main hold. The whine of the ship reawakening filled the air, but didn't mask the rumbling outside or the clatter of unsecured items inside.

Leia reeled toward him as the deck below her feet lurched again. "The Empire is still out there! I don't think it's wise to—!"

"No time to discuss this in committee!" Han cut her off, practically dancing in his effort to keep on his feet as he raced past her toward the cockpit.

Temper reignited, Leia did her best to follow him as the ship rocked. "I am not a _committee_!" she yelled after him before a particularly strong jolt sent her crashing against the padded bulkhead; gritting her teeth, she pushed herself off it and tottered in his wake. "I am _not_ a committee," she repeated in disgust.

Staggering through the cockpit hatchway, she was just in time to watch as Han fired up the engines. "You can't make the jump to light-speed in this asteroid field," she pointed out, as if any of them needed the reminder.

"Sit down, Sweetheart. We're taking off!"

Another violent shock sent her toppling into the navigator seat with opportune timing before Han grasped the controls, engaged the repulsors, and the _Falcon_ rose off the cave floor. As the ship stabilized, he yanked back on the throttle and they rocketed forward toward the pinpoint of light in the distance.

Chewbacca stabbed an urgent hairy finger toward what had been a circle of light ahead, the entrance to the cavern; it wasn't a circle so much anymore as a horizontal oval now. "[It's closing!]"

Threepio cried out, "Look!"

"I see it, I see it." Han strained to urge more speed from his aged ship.

"We're doomed!" the droid wailed.

Horrified, Leia stared as they sped toward the rows of jagged white stalagmites and stalactites lining the entrance, now threatening to block their exit.

"The cave is collapsing!" she blurted out, unable to make any other kind of sense out of what she was witnessing.

"This is no cave." Han's voice was grim.

"What?!"

Then Leia's mouth snapped shut in subconscious mimicry, realizing too late that what appeared as white rocks were an incontestable reminder that they weren't even _close_ to the top of the food chain.

_I can't believe this. I can't believe this is happening._

Leia slammed her eyes shut and waited for the end.


	5. The drift

**Chapter 5 — The drift**

General Rieekan had once told Leia that war amounted to countless weeks of boredom, interrupted by random minutes of sheer terror. Today she was discovering the flaw in that adage, because she was pretty sure all those minutes were piling up into one horrific day.

The only possible up-side to the disaster so far was that terror tended to override everything else. Their hasty exit from whatever had nearly devoured them in the cave of that asteroid, followed by their reemergence into the hazard of the asteroid field, and now their renewed flight from the awaiting warships beyond, had been more than enough to shove any other emotional turmoil to a remote corner of her mind. Now, to top off an already appalling day, the hyperdrive had failed again, leaving them to once more bear the brunt of an entire Imperial fleet.

But Han seemed to have performed the impossible, a slight of hand that disappeared them in the blink of an eye in the middle of a swarm of angry warships. Attached like a tiny parasite to the blind side of the bridge of one of the massive star destroyers, the _Millennium Falcon_ was powered down and hidden in nothing resembling a secluded or protected spot, yet the freighter must have blended into the surrounding superstructure. It was a brilliant and unanticipated gambit, hiding in plain sight in the heart of the fleet. But it was a bit like having an executioner's axe hovering unseen overhead, wondering when the blade would drop and how much it would hurt.

Still recovering from her initial shock, Leia was surprised by how fast the two smugglers shut down all but the environmental systems. They managed it with a speed she wouldn't have believed possible.

See-Threepio, on the other hand, was less than impressed. "Captain Solo, this time you have gone too far!"

"[Be quiet,]" Chewie growled in a threatening tone.

"No, I will not be quiet, Chewbacca! Why doesn't anyone listen to me?"

Ignoring the protesting droid, Han waved a finger at the movement of ships around them, talking with his co-pilot. "The fleet is beginning to break up. Go back and stand by the manual release for the landing claw."

"[Give me two minutes.]" Chewie rose from his seat and left the cabin.

"I really don't see how that's going to help," Threepio prattled on. "Surrender is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances."

The moment he mentioned capitulation, she rolled her eyes. On the same wavelength, Han glanced over his shoulder at her, making an ushering gesture she translated to mean 'shut him up before he takes a long walk out a short airlock.'

"The Empire may be gracious enough—" The droid's conciliatory speech died mid-sentence as Leia reached over to hit his kill switch.

"Thank you." Han's relief was palpable.

Not bothering to hide her fascination in watching such a skilled smuggler in action, she rose out of her seat and leaned against the forward dashboard so she could have a clear view out the canopy, and of him. "What did you have in mind for your next move?"

"Well, if they follow standard Imperial procedure, they'll dump their garbage before they go to light-speed, then we just float away." The last part Solo emphasized with a drifting motion of his hand.

Although nodding her head in approval, she was unable to help herself from adding, "With the rest of the garbage. Then what?" Although rewarded with a little scowl, he was too occupied with star maps on the forward console monitor to take her bait.

"Then we've got to find a safe port somewhere around here…Got any ideas?"

Grateful to be included in the planning this time, she leaned in closer to get a better look at the screen. "Where are we?"

"The Anoat system."

Shocked that they'd been chased so far, Leia shook her head, trying to recall what she knew about the remote region; High Command had ruled it out at the time as a potential location for a Rebel base. "The Anoat system. There's not much there."

"No." Han paused, and then straightened up as he fiddled with the controls to zoom in on one entry. "Well, wait. This is interesting. Lando."

The sound of surprise in his voice piqued her curiosity and she risked openly studying his handsome features bathed in the blue light from the comp screen. "Lando system?"

"Lando's not a system, he's a man. Lando Calrissian." As if feeling the need to elaborate, he went on with a shrug. "He's a card player. Gambler. Scoundrel—you'd like him." He glanced back at her with a smirk.

Flushing, Leia dropped her head. It was obvious that she would never live that down. "Thanks."

Han read a bit more. "Bespin. It's pretty far but I think we can make it."

Curiosity returning, she squinted at the screen to read along with him. "A mining colony?"

"Yeah, a Tibanna gas mine. Lando conned somebody out of it." He switched off the monitor and leaned back in his seat. "We go back a long way, Lando and me."

It was a rare event when Han shared anything about his past, but something in his manner made her hesitate; he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "Can you trust him?"

His eyes met hers for a brief moment, his expression sheepish before confessing, "No…But he has no love for the Empire, I can tell you that."

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by new movement outside the cockpit as the massive Imperial ships began changing formation. Han double-checked his readouts, and then stretched to look out the cockpit window before reaching to key open the intercom. "Here we go, Chewie. Stand by…Detach!"

Still standing beside Solo, Leia watched as the fleet began to split up. After the nightmare of their escape from Hoth and the asteroid field, she had trouble believing that a scheme so insane and simple could work to shake off their pursuers. For the first time daring to hope they might survive this mess, she remained silent, riveted, as one after another of the colossal star cruisers began to dump their refuse before winking out of view as they accelerated into hyperspace.

It wasn't until the last star cruiser disappeared that Leia realized she was holding her breath. She let it out and patted Han on the shoulder. "You do have your moments. Not many of them, but you do have them." Telling herself it was only an act of gratitude, she bent to press a spontaneous kiss to his cheek.

Not waiting for his reaction, she passed behind him, feelings more jumbled than ever. Only hours ago she'd been determined to hate him for reneging on his promise to stay, and for taking advantage of her emotions in the meantime, and yet here she was now, rewarding his latest act of bravery. It was maddening to know he could so easily breach her defenses with one kiss, just as he'd asserted back on Hoth, and her annoyance was compounded by the fact that he hadn't changed at all; he was still the same provoking man she'd always known. No, this all seemed to be her own personal evolution—this was all her.

_I think there's something fundamentally wrong with you, Organa. _

Relaxing back into the navigator's chair as all the tension and fear from the day flooded out of her body in a reverse rush, the abrupt drop in adrenaline left her weak and lightheaded. Only then did she notice the trembling; she held up a hand to stare at it in detached fascination, then clasped her other hand over it in an attempt to still her nerves. For one crazy moment, she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or just collapse in a heap on the deck.

_Maybe everyone's right—maybe you need some time off. Somewhere remote and quiet. Maybe a spa resort or beach somewhere. Yes, that's it. _

With a little effort she could feel it now: a warm sun melting away the permafrost of Hoth; the gentle rhythmic roar of the surf the most soothing natural music, washing away the frantic voices and violence of the day; the cool wet sand squishing between her toes…

When Leia looked up again, Han was twisted around in his seat, eying her is if she might fall over. "You okay?"

Embarrassed to be caught in such a state, she nodded. "I'll be fine…It just takes me a while to recover from one of your rescues."

That caused a guilty smile. "Yeah. I know what you mean." Solo turned back to the controls to guide the ship away out of the new field of abandoned garbage. "You know how to set in sub-light coordinates?"

"Of course."

"Of course," he echoed, as if any other answer would be absurd. "Set a course for four-twenty-three."

Glad to refocus her mind on something constructive, she swiveled her chair toward the navigation console and spared a moment to become familiar with the unique controls before entering in the data; while she'd looked at it on the odd occasion during other trips, she'd never used this particular navcompuntil now.

Chewbacca returned to the cockpit a few moments later, resuming his spot at the co-pilot station. "[The shields are at half-capacity, and the close-proximity and long-distance sensors are dead.]"

The status update drew a livid curse from Han that she silently echoed. While lucky to still be alive, their prospects without a hyperdrive or the other vital systems were grim; Bespin was a stretch and returning to Hoth was out of the question.

Finishing with her assigned task, Leia double-checked her numbers before announcing, "Coordinates are set. Do you want to check them?"

"Nah, I trust you, Sweetheart."

Never mind that she'd faced down Darth Vader without flinching, or held off squads of stormtroopers with little more than a blaster; those words made her heartbeat flutter. It was embarrassing. And how could it be that all the other nicknames he used irritated her so, and yet this particular one had the opposite effect? Was it was because he seemed to meant it?

_You're imagining things. As soon as we reach civilization, this will all be academic. He'll be gone._

Reaching forward to engage the sub-light engines, Han started them on their long journey, then settled back in his seat and swiveled it to the side so he could see them all as he blew out a loud sigh. "There's good news and bad news."

Exhaustion made Leia rub her eyes. Would this day never end?

"The sub-lights are working fine and should get us to Bespin in about twenty-six days—"

"Is that the bad news?" Leia prompted in part for clarification and in part just to annoy. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard anything she would have classified as good; it was her sneaking suspicion that all of it was bad but just a matter of degree.

"—unless we can fix whatever's wrong with the hyperdrive," Han continued while directing a sour look at her. "There's enough fuel for the trip, and we replaced the water recycler and moisture reclamation unit not too long ago, so there should be no worries there, either. We restocked fresh food before reaching Hoth, but that was a few days ago and now we've got an extra mouth to feed, so the fresh and frozen stuff won't last long. There's plenty of dehydrated and emergency field rations to get us by, though."

They all grimaced at the prospect, but it was still better than the alternative.

Going on, Han pointed a finger in the direction of the communications station. "We can't risk sending out a distress signal. It'll probably draw the wrong kind of attention in this region and we aren't that desperate yet. We'll have to run shifts at the controls since we're flying blind with diminished shields—that's rotating four-hours on, eight-hours off, Princess."

Leia glanced toward the darkened and silent protocol droid seated next to her. "What about Threepio? Couldn't he do most of the shifts?"

"I'm not letting him anywhere near the controls. Besides, do you really want to turn that chatterbox back on?"

It was a rhetorical question and she knew it; the cockpit was blissfully quiet without his constant fretting in the background. Plus, the droid's rotten timing had done nothing to endear him to either of them. She didn't bother with a response.

"Thought so. Chewie, you take the first shift. The Princess here is going back with me."

Clearly thinking the same thing, Chewbacca joined her in throwing Han a suspicious glare. If he thought he could resume his romantic overtures now…

"What?" Han demanded, raising both hands in defense before pointing a finger in the general direction of the main hold to the rear. "The tools are at the bottom of the maintenance pit, remember? Nobody else can fit down there."

"Oh," she echoed Chewie.

Frowning at their joint insinuation, Han redirected the finger at her. "Fine, Your Worship. Until further notice, you're officially part of the crew. I only ferry _paying_ passengers, so you're going to earn your keep. Come on." He got out of his seat.

Unwilling to appear the unenthusiastic team player, she rose and followed him out the hatchway. They passed down the short cockpit corridor, across the ring corridor, down through the tiny lounge and into the main hold. A large piece of the grated decking was already raised up on its hinges, revealing a wide pit in the floor. Stepping up to the edge, she looked down into the confusion of criss-crossing shafts and piping. Although it was dimly lit from inside by a bank of blue-white lights around the rim, she couldn't see the bottom.

_I'm supposed to go down there?_

"The whole tool tray fell in," Han spoke as he stepped off to the side and opened a storage cabinet. He drew out a glow-rod, turned it on, and then began snaking it down into the pit by a cord tied to one end. "Ever do any gymnastics, Your Petiteness?"

"Yes, but that was…" Not liking the sudden change in Han's expression, and reluctant to imagine or encourage where his thoughts had gone, she tapered off. Without another word, she removed her thermal vest and tossed it to the side, then sat down on the edge of the pit, letting her legs dangle down until her booted feet found purchase on one of the metal shafts. It was smooth and slippery. Reconsidering her approach, she shifted around onto her belly, fingers gripping the grated decking for support as she began to lower herself into the underbelly of the ship.

"Careful," Han offered.

The space was too tight to allow a clear view of where she was going, forcing her to weave her way down mostly by feel. The dangling light cast stark shadows that danced about her as she finally reached what felt like the last pipe. "Could you _try_ to hold that light steady, please?" she growled, unable to hide her aggravation.

Han let the glow-rod drop until it came to rest on the lower deck. "If you find anything else interesting down there, let me know, huh?"

Grunting in disgust, not wanting to contemplate what might be lurking in the bowels of the old freighter, she paused to think about her next move. Now she knew why he'd asked about the gymnastics—there was no way to reach the very bottom without using her whole body to balance and swivel around, and the grips seemed to get greasier the deeper she went. The space was so cramped that recovering the tools wasn't just a case of bending over to pick them up. "How do you normally get tools out of here?" she called up.

"Sending down a princess is my preferred method, but they're hard to come by…Especially ones that don't mind a little dirt."

_You expected a straight answer?_

It was clear that their encounter in the circuitry bay would haunt her forever, she knew that now. "If only there was a _little_ dirt down here," she grumbled. Grime already coated her hands, making her grips that much more precarious.

The first item she came to was the empty tool tray, wedged upside-down against a support strut and the last cross shaft. She righted it and lodged it back in the same spot so she had a place to collect the tools, then shifted around on her stomach before kicking a foot out against another strut for leverage. With a careful stretch, she was able to grasp the closest set of spanners below. Dropping it in the tray, she swiveled around to pick up the next one in sight.

Despite her discomfort, it felt good to have something physical to do while she tried to work through her problems, of which there were many. The most obvious one, of course, was this whole farce of an escape that left her trapped aboard a decrepit scow with the one man in the universe who seemed determined to drive her crazy.

_Four weeks of this!_ _Either I'm going to kill him, or…_

Not daring to entertain that thought, Leia clamped down on it. She knew his plan was to reach civilization, complete repairs, and then return her to the Alliance—and that was assuming the rendezvous point hadn't been compromised and he wasn't forced to just dump her off at the nearest port to find her own way back. And then, of course, he would leave.

_Four weeks?_

"How you doing down there?" Han inquired, breaking into her thoughts.

Overstretching while reaching for the next spanner, she answered with a loud grunt of surprise as she slipped forward. One leg swung up to hit against the next beam above her and she managed to bring her elbow around just in time to keep from sliding headfirst onto the hull below. Upside-down and struggling to regain her balance and dignity, she let out a particularly favorite Alderaani curse.

"Hey, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she forced out through gritted teeth. "Just hanging around."

"Is that your foot?"

"Yes, it is."

"Okay, just checking."

His amusement did nothing to help her mood. Determined to at least take advantage of her predicament, she reached out to grip another strut near her head, using it to brace herself as she picked up a couple more tools now within reach.

This really _was_ an intolerable situation, playing fetch for a commitment-phobic spacer when she should be back with the Alliance, tending to the wounded, helping with the reassembly, arranging replacement equipment and supplies…

_Dying on Hoth._

Groaning with the effort, she shifted around to snatch up a rephaser.

_That's where you'd be right now. Dead in the command center, crushed or entombed or shot. Or worse…much worse._

The next recovered tool landed in the box with a clatter.

_Instead, I'm stuck here with an enigma of a man who's going to…_

_He didn't abandon you. He could have. He should have._

Reaching over to snag the cord attached to the glow-rod, Leia directed light into the far corners. There was one tool left, but of course it was out of reach. In a feat of acrobatics she hadn't tried in some time, she rocked backwards in order to right herself, and then slid herself lengthwise along the shaft until she was within reach. Depositing the last stray tool in the tray, she twisted around, puffed out her cheeks from the exertion, and then gazed up to begin planning her assent. She spotted Han's face, haloed by the overhead lights, displaying the biggest smile she's seen in weeks.

"You're amazing," he rumbled.

Something in that blasted smile, in his unanticipated compliment, threatened to stop her heart. Why did he insist on doing that when she was trying to stay mad at him? It just seemed to make things worse because it generated a longing for things that couldn't be. "I'm coming up," she announced.

It was easier said than done, having to dedicate one hand to carrying the now-heavy tool tray. There just wasn't much room for maneuvering around, although it did offer her bracing points from which to leverage up. Han lay face-down on the decking above so he could reach into the pit when she got close enough and hoisted the toolbox up with both hands.

"Thanks. You just saved us a couple hours of fooling around with a magnet on a line."

So that was how they did it otherwise. She could see how difficult that would be. "Wouldn't it be more efficient to attach lines to the tools themselves?"

He disappeared from view for a moment as he got to his feet, then he reappeared in time to send her a smirk. "What, and miss that performance?"

Rolling her eyes, she debated remaining in the pit just to avoid him; she'd hid out in worse spots. Then giving up, she twisted around to begin climbing up onto the next shaft, where there was enough clearance to allow her to stand up, head level with the upper deck. Han tossed her a clean rag, and she wiped her hands off while wondering what would be next—climbing through the ductwork, maybe, or some other hazing chore assigned to new crew members?

Bracing himself at the edge of the pit, Han reached down again to offer a hand up, and she eyed it for a moment before accepting in the spirit of teamwork; grasping each other's wrists, he hauled her up until she could step up onto the top cross shaft and then back onto the upper deck. When he didn't let go right away, she fretted what to do if he pulled her closer, but she needn't have bothered. He was too busy laughing.

Unable to find anything humorous about their situation, Leia extracted her arm. "What's so funny?"

"Guess that's one place we won't have to clean for a while."

Frowning, she glanced down at herself, only now noticing the state of her all-white thermal bodysuit. From toe to neck, she was smeared with streaks and wide swathes of black grease and Goddess only knew what else. Worse yet, this was the only set of clothing she had—what personal items she possessed were packed on a troop transport that, with any luck, was heading toward the rendezvous point.

"I think it's safe to say that you've _never_ cleaned down there."

"True, but the job's all yours. Looks like we'll have to find you something else to wear, huh?" he added, his expression softening just a little.

Mustering a look of serenity she didn't feel, she made a little nod. Could things get much worse?

_Scratch that—you know better. Things could get a _lot_ worse._

"Come on, let's go scrounge something up." He led her back into the ring corridor toward the bunk room that served as his cabin, then palmed open the hatch and walked in.

The _Falcon_'s original configuration had a communal crew's quarters with three bunks, accompanying lockers, and a combined sonics chamber and fresher. However, Solo had done many modifications to the ship, some having nothing to do with engines, shielding, or armament. The sonics was modified and hooked up to an oversized water recycling unit to provide real water showers, a sheer luxury on a star craft of this size. To accommodate Chewbacca, who was too tall for the bunk alcoves, he'd installed false bulkheads in a corner of the rear hold to create a makeshift cabin. Not long after the _Death Star_ and the start of his indefinite employment with the Alliance, he'd added a second compartment next to Chewie's—ostensibly for any passenger requiring extra privacy, although over time it became obvious that this meant her; the only other person to ever occupy the cabin, that she knew of, had been an Alliance general transferring out of the Argus base over a year ago. The door was little more than a swinging sheet of thin durasteel with a latch, the only accommodations a cot spot-welded to the deck and a couple of crates cut up to function as a desk and locker. It wasn't much and it wasn't pretty, but it was an effort and sacrifice of space she would not have expected from the irritable smuggler, and now it would spare her the awkwardness of bunking next to him for a month.

While she'd been in his cabin before for purposes of accessing the fresher or the medical station, she hesitated at the threshold now; on the eve of a very long journey, this was not the time to set a precedent of being in his quarters with him for any _other_ reason.

Han noticed her hanging back, and his shoulders dropped as he pointed at one of the spare bunks. "Relax. I'm not going to attack you. Sit."

Finally relenting, she stepped into the middle of the room. Three of the bulkheads featured recessed bunks, one of them serving double-duty as a rudimentary medical station. Knowing from past voyages that Han used the bunk in the center, her eyes were drawn to it as a variety of unhelpful thoughts distracted her. Then she noticed for the first time how wide the sleeping platform seemed, and her eyes flicked to the other two beds for comparison; his was twice as deep, and realization dawned that he'd modified it to be much roomier. The only possible reason generated a flush that made the high collar of her snowsuit feel hotter than usual. Why hadn't she ever noticed that before?

Dropping down onto the edge of an unused bunk, her back ramrod straight, hands folded in her lap, Leia felt the irritation she'd cultivated for weeks start to wilt in the heat as wildly different ideas ran through her head, some of them involving that double-capacity bunk.

_Relax_, her mind echoed Han in sarcasm. _I haven't relaxed in years. It's not likely to start now._

Watching as he rummaged through the small storage lockers built into the walls between the bunks, curiosity got the better of her again and she studied the rest of the cabin, hoping to glean more of an understanding of who this complicated man was by the artifacts around them. But considering how shielded he was about his life in general, it came as little surprise that the cabin was devoid of decoration. Tending toward fastidiousness about his appearance, that nature was reflected by the distinct lack of personal clutter in the room. Maybe she might have liked a little peek inside the cabinet he was raiding, but her view was blocked.

"Do you still have a datapad I can borrow? If I'm going to be stuck here for the next month, I might as well try to get some work done." Foremost in her mind was monitoring the media sources for any news—official or otherwise—of the battle they'd just survived, but it would also provide an avenue of escape, of distraction from what was clearly going to be an awkward voyage.

Han spared a glance over his shoulder. "Sure, there's one in the lounge." Stopping, as if needing a moment to consider something, he turned to face her full-on. "Look, Princess, it _is_ going to be a long trip, so you might as well get comfortable. It's not much, but you're welcome to whatever I've got here. I'll make sure you've got access to the ship's computer, too…but I'll warn you, there's a glitch so it's a bit flakey."

This new level of openness, from a man who as a rule was very guarded about his ship and his life left her puzzled. Why was he letting her in at a time when it would be in both their interests to block any new intimacy? She couldn't decide whether that made him a sadist or a masochist, or just crazy. "Thank you. Is there anything I should avoid?"

"Yeah, Chewie in the morning before he's had his kaffe. He's not always the happiest Wookiee."

"Duly noted."

For a moment they shared a common smile, as if on the same wavelength, and then she remembered she was still mad at him. Looking down at her interlocked hands, she tried to ignore his lingering gaze.

"What's stashed in your cabin from the last trip?"

"Nothing."

"You're always leaving stuff behind. I figured it was because you wanted excuses to keep coming back." Han delivered the observation with his foolproof smirk. The air of confidence in his own irresistibility was as ever-present as his blaster and it never failed to vex her. She would rather take another ride through the asteroid belt than validate his theory.

He must have recognized she wasn't giving up ground because he shrugged. "All right, it's not much but it's a start." One arm full, he closed the locker and moved to stand in front of her, then started listing items off as he handed them over. "A couple pairs of workout pants you can have, and a couple of shirts, some socks. Like I said, you're welcome to anything else, too."

"Thank you." She paused, not sure what to do next. Here she was, sitting on a bunk in his cabin, about to share his clothing, and him looking down at her with a very confusing expression of anticipation. What he expected she didn't dare guess, but a feeling akin to morbid curiosity kept her from moving. As if encouraged by her lack of action, he moved to sit down beside her.

The instant he sat, Leia realized she wasn't ready for this yet, whatever this was. There were too many issues between them left unresolved and one kiss hadn't erased them—all the kiss had done was maybe reopen negotiations. Before he could do anything more, she stood and stepped out of reach. Turning in time to catch the disappointment emerge on his face, she refused to feel sorry for him, not after the weeks of emotional injury he'd caused. She tipped her head toward the exit. "I need to clean up."

Recognizing his cue to leave, Han rose to stand in front of her, and again there was an undecided air about him, as if he might force the unspoken subject on both their minds. His hazel gaze met hers before dropping down to her lips, making her heart beat faster despite her better reasoning.

_Don't do this. This is crazy and pointless—he can't make up his mind and you're already damaged enough._

And yet here they stood with an abyss between them, both poised to fall.

Self-conscious, she looked away first, and felt Han step around her to palm open the hatch.

"I'll see what's in the galley and make us something to eat."

She nodded in agreement, almost relieved that he'd taken a different initiative.

_Four weeks of this…?_


	6. The breakdown

**Chapter 6 — The breakdown**

It was amazing what a real water shower and a clean change of clothing could accomplish. Leia took her time washing up, running the water as hot as she could stand it, until the last vestiges of Hoth were melted away, and then she stayed a good while longer under the water jets just because it felt good.

Afterward, still in the cramped fresher, she went through the clothing Solo had given her, trying to figure out a way to wear them. The shirts were simple enough to deal with—the dark blue short-sleeved ones hung to about mid-thigh and were baggy but otherwise comfortable. The white shirt felt more like a dress, even with the long sleeves rolled up, and probably wouldn't be good for much else other than lounging or sleeping. The trousers were a tougher challenge due to their difference in height. She was in danger of having them fall down around her ankles or tripping over the cuffs or—Goddess forbid—both! The black workout pants had a drawstring at the waist, a small blessing since it allowed her to cinch them tight and roll up the waistband to take up the extra material. What followed was an executive decision to cut off a portion of the pant legs—if he complained, she'd just have to buy him new ones once they arrived on Bespin. The only items she had no options for were shoes. While the thin metal deck plates were tolerably cool, walking around barefoot while doing repairs wasn't a wise choice, and neither were socks on the slick floor. While her blue insulated snow boots were a bit too warm, they at least offered protection and a grip, so she would have to stick with them most of the time.

Having sorted all that out, Leia retired to her makeshift cabin to await her shift. Han had been right, of course; there were several basic items she tended to leave behind in anticipation of future missions: a hand-held mirror, a brush and collection of hairpins, a toothbrush, some more-feminine cleansers, and a bottle of perfume he'd given her at some point over a year ago. She'd liked the gift, yet for some reason—Propriety? Convenience? His benefit?—she kept it stashed onboard.

Since their fates were set in durasteel for the next twenty-six days unless they got the hyperdrive working, there was little point in putting a lot of effort into an elaborate hair arrangement. Instead she settled for a single loose plait down her back, just enough to keep it out of her way.

By the time she'd accomplished all these things, half of Chewbacca's shift in the cockpit had already passed. She'd relaxed on the cot for a while, but was unable to stop her mind from racing over recent events, and eventually the odor of cooking food drew her out of her cabin and back into the main hold, where she'd shared a somewhat quiet meal alone with Han, who appeared both amused and intrigued by her new wardrobe. She waited with trepidation for him to make some sort of innuendo about her wearing his clothing, and he'd clearly wanted to, but he held back and they'd finished with nothing more than idle chit-chat. Somehow that had seemed worse.

It was just as well that she manned the next watch in the cockpit while Chewie went back to work with Han on repairs. Despite her increasing weariness, she still needed the time alone to decompress. Seated in the pilot's chair now with legs folded up beneath her, the datapad tucked into the seat at her side, long forgotten, she leaned heavily on one of the armrests and stared out the canopy at what appeared to be unmoving stars.

Worrying thoughts of the aftermath of the Hoth battle haunted her. Despite the last report she'd heard of Luke being shot down, she prayed he was okay and already at the rendezvous; likewise General Rieekan, her friend Kristin Aldritch, and the other fellow Rebels she knew. Knowing that worrying achieved nothing, Leia rubbed her temples and admitted they were probably just as anxious about her; the last transmission from Han had been to notify the waiting transport that he was getting her out on the _Falcon_.

Uninvited, her thoughts kept circling back to Han—not that this was a new development as he often dominated her thoughts, but now there was little else to keep her from rehashing recent events. Back on Ord Mantell, when he'd told her he would be staying on with the Alliance, however insincere the gesture turned out to be, things had changed between them. They'd forged a peace, a cessation of hostilities, and the pleasant compromise had given her a whole new outlook on their relationship, something she'd never taken seriously before. In that time she'd dared to open her heart to him…only to have him shut her out with no explanation during their flight back to the Rebel base on Argus. He couldn't have picked a more vulnerable moment to push her away, leaving her feeling manipulated and discarded. In a way, his immediate seventeen-day absence while running supplies to the alternate Rebel base on Sullust while she transferred to Hoth had been both a blessing and curse because at least she hadn't had to look at him while alternatively agonizing over what she might have done wrong and why she'd been such a fool. Not long after his arrival on Hoth, he'd made the announcement to General Rieekan that he was leaving, despite his earlier promise, and that had proved the final insult. At first perplexed, then wounded, then livid, she'd taken to lashing out at him with a complete disregard for propriety—a most unprincesslike behavior that appalled her, and yet she'd been unable to stop.

But now, in one brash act—that deliberate kiss a few hours ago—he'd tilted her world on end yet again. All the heat and desire he'd generated weeks ago on a couch in a hotel room on Ord Mantell came rushing back like a storm surge, and dazed, she'd done exactly what she swore never to do again—she'd fled. That fact, more than anything, bothered her now; she felt at the mercy of her hormones for the first time in her life, and it was disturbing.

As if summoned, the cockpit hatch slid aside and Han strolled in. First reaching overhead to flip on some toggle switches, then grinning in satisfaction as a series of blinking red lights switched to blue before burning bright, he finally looked down toward her. "Hey, Beautiful. Thinking about me?"

And just like that, she felt her temper spike once more. "Shut up, Han," she snapped, but an instant later she regretted it. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and attempted to cleanse her mind. Despite wanting to stay angry with him—it was a comfortable, familiar emotion far easier to deal with than the flutter in her stomach whenever he called her that—she found herself running out of fuel; if his goal was to wear her down, he had finally succeeded.

Han dropped into the co-pilot's seat beside her, but she refused to look at him.

"Guess I was being difficult there, huh?"

"Extremely."

"It's a bad habit." Maybe he sensed her capitulation, for he sounded a little more contrite.

When she didn't respond, he sank back into Chewie's seat, his eyes scanned over the controls. "You're still mad at me. But hey, I had no idea the hyperdrive was—"

"That's _not_ why I'm mad at you! I just can't—" Stopping, she rubbed her temples and wondered where she was going with this outburst. Han's dark eyebrows had arched up in surprise, his full attention on her now, and the fear of being made yet another fool warred with her desire to just get it out of her system, damn the cost. "You make me feel like the ball at a smashball championship."

His mouth dropped open, but she couldn't tell if it was to say something or just shock at her analogy. When he said nothing, she plowed ahead before she lost her nerve.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to _do_ anymore, Han. What do you want from me?" The sound of abrupt defeat in her own voice was a shock, but she felt lost and exposed, something so beyond her normal experience.

"What do I—?"

His look of befuddlement pushed her past the flashpoint and she let out a growl of frustration. "You know _exactly_ what I mean!" Restraining the urge to pound her fist into the armrest—or worse yet Han's head—she clutched the cushion in a death grip.

_Why doesn't he just leave me alone so my heart can break in peace? Why does he keep rubbing it in?_

His mouth snapped closed as he studied her for a long moment, and she found gratification in his shell-shocked expression; he was caught off-guard, but maybe he was finally starting to get it now. "Look…I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you—"

"Well, you did," she interrupted, shifting in the chair to turn away, unable to look at him any longer. Not caring how it appeared, she pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, feet up on the edge of the seat. "I just want it to stop. I have enough pain in my life without this—this…" She couldn't go on. If she opened those floodgates now, she feared she'd never get them closed again.

"Leia…" he began softly.

"Why did you come back?" It was an accusation as much as a question.

Han's pause was long enough that it made her look back at him. "Because I wasn't going to let you martyr yourself."

His insight stung, all the more so because he seemed so oblivious to what had started this encounter. Her response was dismissive and automatic. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't insult my intelligence. You ignored the non-essential personnel evacuation. General Rieekan told me the command center was hit, but you were still refusing to leave. He knew what you were planning to do, and that's why he contacted me. He knew I'd never leave you in there. That I'd get you out, even if I had to throw you over my shoulder."

Not knowing whether to be more shocked by the general's blatant attempt to manipulate Han through his feelings for her, or by the fact that the ploy had worked, she stared back at him. The implications of her fellow Alderaani's unorthodox tactic must have occurred to Han as well, and that irked her even more. With an angry frown, she said, "Don't bring General Rieekan into this. Staying was my choice."

"That's exactly my point."

Annoyed that he'd just won that round with better logic, Leia looked away again. "You're leaving, anyway. What do you care?"

"If you haven't figured that out yet, then I guess I don't know why anymore, either."

Heat flared in her chest. Twisting around, she stabbed a finger at him. "There! _That's _what I'm talking about. What does that _mean_? I can't take this constant pushing and pulling from you anymore. Either commit or leave me alone, but stop toying with me like this!"

She glared down her nose at him, daring him to say something, playing her last Sabacc card. Why did they keep dancing around this issue like children taunting one another to say the forbidden words first? What did he expect her to say that she hadn't already revealed in that embarrassing incident days ago when Echo Base's malfunctioning PA system had made what was a private conversation all-too-public? Why was this all still her burden to bear? Han was displaying a mix of emotions she could only guess at, and that was half the problem; she was sick to death of guessing.

Sucking in a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into the unknown depths of a whirlpool, Han's gaze didn't waver. "The reason that bounty on me is so high now is because I _couldn't_ leave you. Don't you get that?"

Trying to unearth his point, she stared at him in disbelief. Was that whole mess with Jabba the Hutt somehow supposed to be _her_ fault?

"Damn it, Leia, I _care _about you. Too much. I've been trying my damnedest to sabotage this because I _have_ to leave. I thought making you hate me would make it easier. It was damage control, but it's obviously made everything worse."

_Damage control._

It was a concept Leia understood too well; the last two years of her life had been little more than trying to manage the debris of a universe disintegrating around her. But she couldn't wrap her mind around this. Hugging her legs tighter, she turned away to press her cheek against her knees.

_How can he expect me to believe anything he says anymore?_

So he wasn't leaving because he didn't care—he was leaving because he cared too much. Was that supposed to make her feel better? She rocked her head, struggling to understand it all.

If all that was true, then why wasn't she happy? Why was she fighting back tears all of the sudden?

"Ah, kest! I keep hurting you." There was sudden movement at her side, and then she felt him peel away one of her hands from her knee, grasping it in his strong grip. Looking up, she found Han towering above her. As if giving up on words and resorting to action, he swiveled her chair and pulled her up to her feet and into his arms. Unable to summon any resistance, instead she let him gather her up. "I'm sorry, Leia."

His murmured apology caressed her ear and echoed through her mind, and that innate ability to read people—that sixth sense that had served her so well in politics and life—whispered that he was sincere. Pressing her face against his shoulder, she felt the tears well up.

_Oh Goddess, I can't cry! Not now, not in front of him!_

The desperate thought proved the final trigger as her last defenses crumbled. Too late to stop it, she hitched against him, grasping handfuls of his shirt as all the pent-up doubts and lingering pain from his initial rejection, the anger at the futility of it all—and then suddenly darker things as well, the multiple horrors of the day and older hurts from before she'd known him—flowed out with each cathartic sob. She'd never cried in front of anyone since childhood, but seemed unable to stop now as Han's arms wrapped tighten around her. Remaining silent, he seemed to know just the sort of comfort she needed right then; it was support that didn't involve platitudes, a silent strength that buoyed her while her own slipped.

It felt like forever before her composure began to return and she grew aware of how damp Solo's shirt was against her cheek. Not only had she cried in front of the one man from whom she'd tried the hardest to hide her feelings—a mortifying lapse in her control—but she'd cried _on_ him. Would he view her differently now, begin to treat her like some fragile hothouse flower? Trying to gather up the fortitude needed to deal with the embarrassment, she dug her forehead into his shoulder.

As if Han sensed her new distress, his hand moved to rub across the back of her shoulders.

Trying to mask the sniffles, she worked on calming her breath before daring to speak into the smooth plane below his collarbone. "I've been so horrible to you lately."

"Wasn't your fault. I deserved it."

A long moment of unfamiliar silence wrapped around them as they stood in the star-marked skylight of the cockpit, and she willfully lost herself for a little while longer, relishing how it felt to have his arms around her once more after weeks of nothing but cold and loneliness. In a tentative gesture, her hands dropped so she could slide them under his flight jacket and around his back, returning his embrace. Why was this so very hard for them to achieve when it seemed so natural?

"Thank you for coming back for me."

His lips pressed to the top of her head. "Hey, it's what I do. Just don't go making a habit of it, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed with a small nod against his chest. It was clear now just how despondent she'd become that morning back on Hoth; he'd not only saved her life once more, but he'd pulled her back from the brink of despair. It was enough to make her mind reel. With their real motivations out in the open for once, she had no idea where it might lead to and feared moving forward since there seemed little promise of a bright future for either of them, between his death mark and her war—and yet she had no desire to go back, either.

"What happens now?" she dared to ask anyway, even though she knew it tempted fate.

His broad chest expanded with an audible breath, as if he needed a moment of his own to absorb what had happened, or maybe just to gauge his audience. "I don't know, Sweetheart, but give me a second and I'll sure I'll think of—"

Before he could continue that thought or she could prepare a suitable retort, the cockpit door swished open to reveal Chewbacca. He was already mid-roar but stopped, nonplussed by what he found. Suddenly conscious of the scene, Leia let go of Han and took a step back, bringing a hand up to brush her cheeks in a hasty attempt to wipe away any last evidence of tears.

"[What has he done now?]" Chewie's question was directed toward her.

"Shut up, you oversized piece of flea bait," Han snapped in annoyance.

"It's okay, Chewie." Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears.

His sky-blue eyes shifting from princess to pilot, not looking convinced, Chewbacca tilted his head in a single nod of acknowledgement. "[Very well, but if he's bothering you, I can stuff him in a storage locker until he learns some manners.]"

"You can try," Han warned.

"I don't think that will be necessary this time, but I'll keep it in mind," she responded in a tired sigh.

One of Han's eyebrows arched at her, and a corner of his sensuous mouth crinkled up into a little smile. "This time?"

Seeming satisfied, Chewie turned his attention back to his captain. "[Solo, I still need help with threading the replacement wires through the hyperdrive housing.]"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there." Han turned back to her, as if questioning the wisdom of leaving her alone right now.

"Go on. I'm fine." When Leia tried to look away, he ducked a little to stay in her line of sight, as if by peering deeper into her eyes he could find what she wasn't saying. She hadn't thought it possible to frown and smile at the same time, but managed both and realized she probably looked a mess. "Okay, fine, give me five minutes."

"Sure, Leia."


	7. The recovery

**Chapter 7 — The recovery**

Han began returning to the cockpit on a regular basis as Leia's shift continued, making a show of checking sensors and flipping toggle switches, but Leia supposed his real goal was to check in on her. It was a tendency he'd demonstrated in the past whenever he felt reason to worry that she might fall to pieces while outside his protective sight.

_I just blasted a hole in that theory, didn't I?_

Even so, to learn that he cared enough to bother, when he already had enough on his plate, was reassuring. And despite the humiliation of weeping in front of the jaded spacer, she realized that she felt a lot better now. Worn out and drained, yes, but also unfettered, as though free at last from the weight of keeping it all bottled up inside. Most of the negative emotions that had overtaken her like an avalanche in the past few weeks had been rendered more manageable, and she would find a way to cope with each one on her own terms the same way she tackled every other challenge in her life.

Back on Ord Mantell she'd taken to heart his offer to stay on indefinitely. The implication had been clear that he was doing it for her benefit, and he made no effort to correct her assumption; indeed, he'd taken advantage of it. Swept up in the joy of his announcement and the romantic atmosphere of the evening, she'd almost slept with him that night; were it not for panicking at the last moment, she probably would have. The next day she'd been more prepared and willing to take that next step, but the mood had been ruined by a couple of amateur bounty hunters, followed by Han's abrupt reversal. That sort of wound was bound to leave an emotional scar, and because reason and logic were weak balms when it came to healing her pride and an injured heart, her intuition told her only time would cure things. The problem was that time was not in great supply, not for either of them, and even though their sub-light trip to Bespin would take weeks, it _was_ finite, and then their paths would diverge, possibly forever. It was a deadline she didn't think she could meet.

On the other hand, some things were different from where they'd stood a few hours before. Han had admitted he cared about her—while no real secret, it was the first time he'd said it to her face. He'd stayed all this time because of her, risking his life just to come back for her; it was clear evidence that made her heart quiver as memories of the brief happiness they'd discovered weeks ago tantalized her once again. What would it be like to have that joy for longer than the span of a day or two? What would it be like without the lingering fear that he would just leave one day? She found herself longing for it, despite the inner voice that still cautioned restraint. He'd said a lot of things over the years when he thought it would get what he wanted, and had threatened to leave countless times besides.

_What's the word of a scoundrel worth?_

_Well,_ _maybe that's a bit harsh. He _is_ still here._

Not only had he changed his mind during the battle above Yavin IV and again on Hoth—both times in direct conflict with his own best interests—but he'd passed up multiple perfect opportunities to leave, instead remaining to take one dangerous assignment after another. He'd even volunteering his services without pay on that mission to Ord Mantell—granted, it was a purely personal motive, but it had been his own idea.

Leia had trouble imagining he would do all of that just for her—not because she couldn't picture Han taking risks, but because he took them for her sake. Yet the fact that General Rieekan had resorted to using Han to get her off of Hoth before it was too late supported the premise, didn't it? Rieekan had a soft spot for her and fancied himself a guardian in lieu of her father, but he was no fool; he had anticipated Solo would go back for her, whatever the cost, and he was right. If Rieekan could interpret Han's motivation so easily, why hadn't she?

For someone who took pride in her ability to communicate and understand others, the history of miscommunication between the two of them humbled her. Why had it taken them so long to be honest with one another?

A pinging noise began to emit from the communications console, signaling the end of her time on duty. As she rose to switch it off, Han appeared at the hatch, ready to relieve her. "Hey, Sweetheart," he said as he sidestepped around the motionless Threepio to reset the alarm.

"Hey." Body protesting from sitting too long, Leia twisted around in an effort to relieve the kinked up muscles in her back, but then had to use the seat for balance as every other major muscle group began clamoring for attention. Stretching up toward the overhead canopy in a long, lavish movement, it wasn't until she was mid-yawn that she noticed Han was ogling her. Too late, she tried to stifle it by covering her mouth, thinking she must look ridiculous buried in his oversized clothing; it reminded her of when she'd clomped around in her father's shoes as a child, already pretending to be older than her real age.

When he continued to stare, lost in his own thoughts, Leia felt another childish impulse and stuck her fists on her hips. "Why don't you take a holo? It'll last longer."

It only took Solo an instant to recover. "Your Highness, I had no idea you were into that sort of thing! I'll get my recorder." He made as though to exit.

"Oh, shut up," Leia snapped, even as a genuine smile softened her tone. Tired as she was, it seemed some of her humor had returned at last. It had been a long time since she'd found anything to laugh about, and while his inappropriate timing could be annoying, something still kept drawing her back to him, like a Jawa to shiny things.

_Maybe he's right. Maybe I do like it when he's being a scoundrel. It's never boring._

"You look rugged out," he said, his expression turning more serious. "You're off for the next eight hours. Go back and get some sleep."

_Sleep. I think I've forgotten what that's like._

When _was_ the last time she'd had a full night's sleep? Too tired to recall, she figured passing out would be the more accurate term if she lay down at this point, but it seemed such an extravagance when there was so much work to be done. "What about repairs? The hyperdrive—"

"Isn't going anywhere. We've isolated the problem and there's not much we can do. Chewie's already bunked out." He moved closer, and she assumed he was heading for the seat she'd vacated, but instead he stopped in front of her, standing so close that she imagined she felt his body heat. "There'll be plenty to do when you wake up, don't worry."

Maybe some part of her had been waiting for just such a dismissal, because at last she capitulated, her shoulders dropping. "Whatever you say, Captain." Glancing down, expecting him to step aside so she could pass, it took another second before she looked up again, realizing he wasn't moving.

Instead, his gaze roamed over her face, as if drinking in every detail. The sudden awareness of his proximity made her flush, and she really wished she could get some control over that reaction because it was a dead giveaway. But she recognized the intense look on his features, too; the fact that he wanted to kiss her again was stamped all over it, as clear to her now as the scar on his chin. Perhaps she wasn't the only one easy to read—maybe she'd only needed the deciphering key and the willingness to translate.

Nothing was said, no clear signal given as they seemed to migrate toward a midway point, drawn together like magnets, and Leia found something different this time when their lips met. It wasn't the incandescent arc of pent-up passion, self-denial, and danger like earlier while hidden on the asteroid, or the heady rush of astonished pleasure like back on Ord Mantell. This was gradual, the softest of caresses, an unhurried exploration; it was rediscovering territory with a new appreciation. There was unquestionable heat in what became a series of shallow kisses, but it was more like a slow burn that reminded her of eating a spicy Crathulan dish, the steady excitement building up in her system until too late she realized her entire body temperature had ramped up a few degrees. He tasted of kaffe, musky and rich, energizing and necessary.

Her hands found their way up his chest and then her arms slipped around his neck as she lost track of time. His own work-roughened hands framed her face, his lips continuing to brush against hers, tantalizing, as if she needed any more coaxing, and her eyes opened briefly to meet his gaze in what felt an intimate sharing, a mutual breakthrough as half-hearted attempts to stop gave way to the need for just one more taste, one more affirmation.

"Leia," he moaned, his breath mingling with hers.

Something in Han's subterranean voice, in how he used her name like that, triggered a new surge of electricity through her, grounding her to the spot. The intensity made her gasp against his lips, and in that moment the truth penetrated her nebulous thoughts; right there, in the middle of the cockpit, still fully clothed and with nothing more than her name spoken, they'd soared right past flirting and straight into love-making. And what was more, she wanted it, wanted him, without a doubt.

_This is crazy! I'm not ready for this yet, not by a long shot._

They needed to stop—now—before things got out of hand, before something happened they'd both regret. Tapping into some last remnant of self-discipline, she disengaged and pushed away. He let her go, but not before ducking down to steal one last kiss she didn't attempt to avoid.

Han practically glowed in the dim lighting, his smile brighter than a spaceport beacon. That or an entire carafe of kaffe had just kicked in; considering how long it had been since any of them had slept, maybe one had. Trying to regain her bearings, she rolled her shoulders to resume some level of decorum, but his broad smile was infectious and in spite of her better judgment she mirrored it as she officially handed back the helm. "It's your watch."

Slipping out of arms' reach and through the hatchway before Solo could sidetrack her again, she made her way down the short cockpit passageway. Only then did she press a hand against her check, feeling the heat still burning there.

_I'm _not_ running away this time. I ended that encounter in a respectable way, at the appropriate time, with dignity intact. Right?_

Dazed, she wandered all the way into the main hold before coming to a stop, eyes wide and staring at the decking.

_What just happened back there?_

Every time she set a goal or limit, Han waltzed in to change it on her. Hadn't she just decided it would require time to work things out—possibly more than this trip would afford them? Yet, in less time than it had taken her to reach that conclusion, he'd skipped right over half those issues with another knee-wobbling kiss. She knew better than to believe their problems were resolved; she knew that shoving the troubles aside to enjoy the moment didn't change what awaited them on the other end. Those kinds of difficulties tended to catch up with a person, much like Han's history with Jabba threatened to do now, when running was no longer an option and the interest earned was steep.

Standing in the center of the hold, she glanced from the holochess in the dining nook, to the abandoned engineering station, to the tiny galley, and finally the circuitry bay. The _Falcon_ felt cavernous and empty all of a sudden, and Leia sighed, recognizing that this sensation of loneliness would become a common occurrence during their journey as they worked and slept in alternating shifts. She supposed that could be a good thing if she needed an excuse to avoid becoming any more entangled with the troublesome spacer.

_But that's not what you want anymore, is it? Not if that kiss is anything to go by._

Indeed, entangling with Han held an all new appeal, while the prospect of long periods alone sounded unbearable.

_Four weeks of this… _

Despite being almost punch-drunk with exhaustion, Leia still felt as though she'd received her own shot of kaffe straight into a vein. If she looked anything like Han had back there, it was no wonder she felt wired. With a resigned shake of her head, she crossed the rest of the main hold, and then entered the circular passageway that wound back around the ship. Maybe a few laps would settle her spinning thoughts enough so she could sleep.


	8. The quiet

**Chapter 8 — The quiet**

Han's turn at watch was too quiet. He half-hoped that despite her agreeing to get some rest, Leia might disobey his orders and reappear to keep him company, or better yet pick up where they'd left off with that kiss. That was a favorite fantasy of his: the sassy and haughty princess so overwhelmed with ignited passion that she sought him out for extra-special attention. With everybody bunked out, there was a temptation to revisit that fantasy now.

_You'd better scuttle that idea. You know damned well that'd be the moment she walks back in, and no doubt about it, that would sabotage everything._

It wasn't long after they'd met that Han had stopped seeking the occasional romp with anonymous women, even though the opportunities were plentiful just within the Alliance alone. His reasoning bemused him—he'd refrained out of concern that word of his exploits would leak back to the princess and ruin his chances of doing the same with her. Although it wasn't the most noble motive, the fact remained he hadn't shared a bunk since. There was a price to pay for that, however, and while he'd had the occasional dry spell in the past, this marathon left him feeling like a frustrated teenager with only one alternative to relieve the pressure. To make matters worse, much to his chagrin, Leia came to dominate those fantasies. That fact made real life around her all the more difficult; it seemed as if every time she moved or touched him, his libido would leap ahead to all sorts of intimate and graphic thoughts, often at the worst possible moments. It had caused him to duck out early from more than one Rebel briefing, no doubt earning him yet another mark of disapproval from the one person most responsible for his condition.

_Chewie's right. You've got it bad._ _It's been too damned long._

Letting off a little steam would have to wait, but there was little else to occupy his time. Out of sheer boredom he flirted with the idea of switching Threepio back on, but then rational thought returned and he left the powered-down droid manning the unused communication station in silence. For a while he picked up the abandoned datapad and begun scanning through what news the device could pick up from their remote location, but he had trouble focusing on the articles for long because his thoughts kept wandering back to Leia.

Daring to hope their relationship had righted onto a forward course once more after the recent turbulence of bounty seekers and stupid decisions, he considered it a good sign that she was letting him touch her again.

_Hell, the fact she didn't run after that last kiss is progress, right? _

She'd also recovered her humor, something he'd missed since Ord Mantell. Even so, he still saw reservation and trepidation in those fathomless eyes, as though she feared another reversal at any moment, and it troubled him to know he'd damaged her trust so much.

Needing to move, Han stood up and stretched, arching his back until a loud popping sound emanated from his left shoulder, making him wince. The movement recalled a sympathetic memory of watching Leia do the same things hours before. While the loose clothing hid most of her feminine attributes, the sight of the ex-senator in his clothing struck an odd and thrilling chord—it wasn't just the visual image, but the implied intimacy that stirred his blood.

And that last kiss…It stood out from all the others by its very nature, something Han wasn't sure he could identify. He was no innocent; he'd indulged in his share of portside pleasures, and yet he couldn't recall anything quite like that. In a way it was perhaps the most intimate thing he'd ever done with a woman, and the concept shocked him. He knew now that Leia wouldn't be just another mindless pleasure-seeking romp, or a fleeting moment of illicit release. She had touched him inside…a place nobody had before. She exerted an irresistible, invisible attraction, like the gravitational pull of a heavenly body, her body. His own mystification had been mirrored in her kaffe-colored eyes; the craving and wonder and surrender as she'd moved toward him, as if it was out of her control, had been mutual. He could easily recall the feel of her silky soft lips again, the thrill when her eyes had opened and met his, not flinching away this time. In all his experience, he'd never called out a lovers' name in passion…and yet he'd said her name in that moment, feeling it rise in response just like the rest of him.

Han expelled a harsh breath, shaking his head. Either he was going to have to spend some quality time alone as soon as his shift was finished, or he needed a cold shower, or both. But at this rate he was going to drive himself mad.

_Four weeks, Pal. You'd better pace yourself._

The cockpit door slid open, and Han turned to watch Chewbacca step in.

"[Everything quiet?]"

"Deader than the Emperor's love life. You've still got some time left yet."

"[Yes, just wanted to see if I should start a pot of kaffe.]"

"Yeah, thanks, Buddy…Did the princess turn in?"

Chewie cocked his head to one side. "[I believe so. I haven't seen her. Why?]"

Han shrugged off his partner's implication. "Stubborn. She doesn't know when to quit sometimes."

That earned him a chortle. "[Look who's talking.]"

"All right, all right, I get it. I'm only human."

"[Yes, but I try not to hold that against you.]" Chewie continued laughing at his captain's expense.

Rolling his eyes at what was turning into yet another reluctant conversation about his relationship with Leia, Han got the distinct impression the Wookiee had picked a side. "Look, are you going to keep giving me a hard time about that?"

"[No, I don't think so. I think you've managed well enough on your own.]"

Solo grunted in wordless acknowledgement; there was no need to gloat.

"[So you two are back on speaking terms?]"

"You could say that, I guess."

"[Good. I like her.]"

"I know, Chewie. I do, too."

"[She's not like the other mates you've picked in the past.]"

Han threw his hands up in exasperation. "I'm so glad you approve, Dad." Pointing back toward the main hold, he added, "Listen, do me a favor and pull the hyperdrive motivator before you come back, huh?"

Accepting the order with a nod, Chewie left the cockpit, although Han could still hear him hooting in amusement until the hatch slid closed.

Running a hand through his hair to give his scalp a tired scratch, he had to admit his first mate was right. Leia was unlike any woman he'd dealt with before. Maybe that was why he felt so over-his-head half the time; like this had the potential to swallow him up whole, change his life…change him.

_Four weeks._ The initial news had seemed intolerable, a prison sentence. But things could be worse—he could be trapped with far less pleasurable company. He and Chewie shared a familiar and comfortable partnership, working and playing together or staying out of each other's hair (no easy task) with practiced ease. The princess, on the other hand, was a new and questionable element; they'd never been forced to spend such a long stretch of time together, particularly in such close quarters with few buffers.

_Either we're going to kill each other, or_…

The prospect made Han smile.

_Or we're going to get to know each other a _lot_ better._

Staring out the canopy, Han thought again about the journey just started. They were moving so slow relative to the expanse of space between their current location and their destination that the distant stars barely moved. Four weeks—it was a hell of a long time to be stuck in limbo, effectively blind and incommunicado. Even though they could technically fly on sub-light engines via autopilot and monitor the ship from the engineering station in the main hold or aft corridor, the fact that they were without functioning short- and long-range sensors still meant they were doomed to sitting shifts up front or risk hitting something. The dish on the upper hull had sustained damage, but without physically going outside to check, it was impossible to determine how bad or if it was reparable without an atmospheric docking bay. To do any of that, he would have to bring the _Falcon_ to a complete stop for the duration, something that would just add more time to their trip, but spacewalks while at speed were far too dangerous; the combination of momentum and vacuum was easily lethal. Sure, he'd taken the risk once or twice in his desperate youth…

_You aren't desperate now?_

Well, maybe he was a little bit, but there was more to lose now…

Chewbacca was back a short while later. "[Kaffe's in the galley. Motivator's on the table.]"

"Thanks, Buddy. She's all yours."

After a trip to his cabin for a long-overdue detour to the fresher and some promised relief, Han found himself walking a tour around the ship, feeling neither refreshed nor satisfied. Pausing in the engineering bay at the rear of the ship, he stared with mixed feelings at the exposed workings of the hyperdrive engine. He was filled with a restless frustration; he needed to get on with the business with Jabba, and had finally worked up the nerve to say goodbye, only to be stymied yet again. Now, with this new forced intimacy for the next several weeks, he faced the possibility becoming so involved with Leia that he lost any remaining willpower to leave, and while half of him was eager at any cost, the other half was all too aware how such a failure could doom them both.

Walking over to the open blast doors that led into the number-three hold, his eyes automatically went to the closed hatch of Leia's makeshift cabin. Over the dull and steady rumble of the sub-light engines to his right, he strained to hear anything that might indicate she was still awake. He told himself that it was because he wanted to make sure she was getting some sleep, but that didn't explain his disappointment when nothing stirred.

_You're turning into a stalker._

With a frown, he left in the direction of the main hold, stopped in the narrow galley to pour a fresh mug of kaffe, and then walked over to the lounge to stare down at the charred hyperdrive motivator on the tabletop. It didn't look good; half the circuitry was blackened, and some of it was actually melted into slag. Standing there, he closed his eyes and listened to his running ship for a moment, as if she might be able to tell him how to fix things the same way the other female in his life had done hours ago.

_Nothing._ _It figures she'd give me the cold shoulder now, too._

It was well over a day since they'd blasted out of Hoth's atmosphere, and common sense dictated he should go back to his cabin to sleep before his next shift rolled around, but instead he set his mug on the checkered surface of the holotable and took a seat to contemplate the level of aggravation he felt while staring at the ruined motivator.

No doubt about it, the cursed thing was dead; shorted out; fried beyond repair. Why the hell hadn't he stocked a spare one?The blow-out was always a risk since the unit wasn't rated for the modified power source he'd installed to overclock the engines, all part of his efforts to squeeze that extra boost of speed out of them. It was a foolish mistake to not have a back-up, and he'd nearly gotten them all killed because of it.

_You're slipping, Solo. You're letting too many distractions get to you._

There was a soft scuffing sound from the ring corridor, and Han looked up across the table to see one of those distractions appear in the circular passage. Despite his inspection tour earlier, he was surprised to see Leia appear halfway through what should have been her sleep cycle, her hair loose and flowing over the front of one shoulder. She froze upon seeing him, looking on the verge of turning back, and something in her bearing set off an alarm within Han. Arms wrapped tight across her chest, she was clearly spooked.

"Hey, you okay? Thought you turned in."

Making a visible decision, Leia stepped down into the lounge and approached the table. Now that she was closer, he could see her red-rimmed eyes, although whether it was from exhaustion or crying he couldn't tell—he just knew that neither possibility made him happy. Still quiet, she sank down onto the edge of the acceleration couch across the table from him, but didn't relax and didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she stared down at the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

With her long hair down and curtaining her features, she looked a great deal younger and more vulnerable than usual. The sight tugged at yet another part of his conscience. "Can't sleep?"

Leia finally broke her silence, her voice so quiet it was hard to make it out over the background thrum of the engines. "I fell asleep okay, but…"

"Nightmares?" Sitting back, he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. With her internment on the _Death Star, _the destruction of Alderaan, too many close calls on past missions, and now Hoth and its aftermath, he figured she had enough source material to fuel nightmares for half the population on Coruscant. It was a demonstration of her strength that she could still function at all, let alone act like it didn't get to her. Normally she hid the fallout with makeup and deflection—as if he wouldn't notice her haunted eyes or the lingered pain in her aura—so it was a shock to see her this way, with the remnants of sleep and fear still fresh on her face. Guessing she didn't want to dwell on it, he asked, "Want some kaffe?"

Shaking her head, she leaned a shoulder against the padded backrest of the bench, and although her body language still screamed tension, her glace up toward him was the opening he needed.

"Keep me company, then. I'm just staring at this thing, hoping sheer willpower will fix it." With a gesture at the scrapheap between them, he added, "Guess the Force isn't with me."

A hint of a smile flickered across her pale features and she turned more toward him, seeming to unwind just a tad. "I don't think the Force works on broken hyperdrives, anyway, but I could be wrong."

_That's it, Solo. Give her a reason to forget._

Experience had taught him that a laugh could work miracles with this complex woman. "Damn, that was my last Sabacc card. Looks like we're stuck on the scenic tour." The princess didn't respond, but he could see disappointment emerge on her face and wanted to kick himself for reminding her of their forced absence from the Alliance right when they needed her most. He tried again. "But hey, on the bright side, now I've got an extra hand to help clean this ship up. She'll be spotless by the time we get there."

"If that was your goal all the long, Captain, you could have just asked." Her tone was dry, demonstrating just the sort of sass he'd liked from day one.

"Would you have said yes?"

One corner of her mouth crinkled up. "Probably not…"

He loved this part, the pleasurable duel of minds, finding her to be a superb sparring partner. "Exactly. That's why I prefer elaborate schemes that mask my brilliance as a mastermind."

That finally drew a little laugh from her, and she dropped her arms to rest at her sides. "You hide it well."

"Thanks."

The fact she didn't follow up with another crack was evidence enough of her exhaustion, but then she let out a heavy breath and rubbed her eyes in an obvious struggle to stay engaged. Guessing she must have come out here to escape whatever had haunted her back in her cot, Han now saw his opportunity to stage another rescue. The timing wasn't right to push for anything like another kiss, but that didn't mean he couldn't offer some simple comfort. Hell, it could even gain him a few points to cash in later. Dropping a hand to pat the curved seat between them and then draping the arm along the back of the banquette, he indicated there was plenty of room. "Come over here."

Tired though she was, Leia hadn't lost her ability to question his motives as she gave him a doubtful look.

"Hey, it's me."

That only earned him a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, I deserved that. But it's okay, I won't try anything, I promise…Not unless you try something first. Then all bets are off." That last bit he added out of reflex, but diluted it with an easy smile.

Biting her lower lip in an obvious debate over whether the benefits outweighed the risks, she let the offer hang in the air for another beat before relenting by pulling herself along the rounded table edge, scooting along on the bench until she was within reach. There was just a moment of tension in her body as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, but then she seemed to let go at last and relaxed against him.

"See? Not so bad."

"Not so bad," she echoed while shifting around to get more comfortable, bringing her bent legs up onto the seat to huddle under his arm.

With her so warm and soft, so solid and wonderful in his loose embrace—even for such an innocent reason—Han marveled at how right it felt as memories of a similar situation, their brief interlude on a hotel couch on Ord Mantell, flooded back. It was more of a struggle than he'd expected, restraining the urge to pick up where they'd left off that night.

_Cool your retros, Solo. That's not what she needs tonight._

"Is that part of the hyperdrive?" she asked, only seeming to notice for the first time what lay in front of them.

"It was."

"I see…It doesn't look good."

"No."

"Is it replaceable?"

"Sure…after we reach Bespin. I don't have a spare." Cupping her elbow, he absently ran his fingers along the sharp angle. "Once we're there, it won't take long to swap out, and then she'll be good as new again."

_And then…?_

The question lay unspoken between them, like a giant black hole. Staring forward at nothing, he drew Leia a little closer, unable at that moment to imagine letting her go.

_How the hell am I going to manage that?_

"Was this part of your elaborate scheme, too?"

He snapped back to the present. "What?"

"This."

"What we're doing right now?"

"Ummhmmm."

"If I said yes, would you get up and leave?"

No doubt her idea of a joke, the pause was a bit longer than he found comfortable.

"Probably not."

"Good." Reaching out his other hand to pick up his mug, he sipped the cooling kaffe. "I love it when a plan falls together."

With a wide yawn, she settled in a little more. "Tell me more of this elaborate plan."

Amused, he snuck a peek down to find that her eyes were closed. "I'd love to, Sweetheart, but a mastermind never reveals his secret unless he wants it to fall apart. Let's just say that my genius would surprise you."

There was a soft sound that rose from the young woman tucked under his arm. "You're always surprising me." Her tone was tender enough that it was difficult to tell if she was still teasing or serious now.

"Good, I like surprising you," he drawled, enjoying the gentleness of their play, an affectionate banter that he could imagine them engaging in at some more luxurious time and place; a tangle of sheets and bare limbs in a sunny room on a lazy afternoon spent lovemaking and…

Han shook his head as a stab of bittersweet reality interrupted his fantasy, replacing the warm buzz with an overwhelming pang of longing.

_What's the likelihood of that scenario ever happening? _

The odds were poor that they would get out of this mess alive; that he would survive Jabba's wrath to find her again; that the war would end before it consumed one or both of them; that she even wanted him in that way.

_An awful lot of assumptions there, Solo._

As he peered down at Leia again, he liked to think he maybe had the answer to that last point. Despite the crazy ride of highs and lows over the years, it seemed he'd grown on her. Whether or not it was her intention, her meltdown in the cockpit earlier had forced them both to be honest about their feelings, and he was relieved by how fast the non-combative atmosphere they'd enjoyed on Ord Mantell had returned. It was a wonder he hadn't lost her for good after the damage he'd done; it was a testament to her own feelings that she was accepting him back despite it all.

_Take this any further and you're only going to hurt her again. You know that._

The dark thought was unbidden but enough to make him question the wisdom of fanning the renewed flames between them. The opportunist in him, the part dedicated to baser instincts, shrugged off that sort of guilt like a dewback shook off water, but for once in his rather empty life there was more at stake. This was about more than just scoring a little tail before jetting off to points unknown. This was about integrity and respect and…

Another unintelligible sound broke his thoughts, and Han realized Leia was falling asleep. Bringing his hand up to touch her check in a gentle caress, he suggested: "Why don't you stretch out right here? Go on, lie down."

Already half asleep, she agreed with a murmur and shifted around on the bench without opening her eyes. Arms folding up in front of her, she slid down the curve of the banquette until her head came to rest on his thigh, her young face turned away in profile.

What caused Han to gasp had nothing to do with integrity or respect and everything to do with sudden arousal as his heart leapt into a gallop. Despite the release he'd found earlier—or maybe because of it—he slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to block the erotic images jumping to mind. When that wasn't enough, he resorted to running a stream of hyperjump logarithms through his head.

_Think about something else! Come on, you can be nice, too. _

Just to be on the safe side, he tackled the past five-year stats of his favorite smashball team before risking another look down.

Leia was without question asleep now, her breathing slow and deep, her beautiful features smoothed out in complete relaxation. It was an unheard of treat to study her without embarrassment or the risk of a barbed taunt, and he took advantage of it. One slim wrist rested back against his thigh, the graceful hand curled palm-up in front of her nose. His eyes roamed over the smooth contours of her face, memorizing each attractive feature, locking it away in his mind for what would probably be less-happy days.

_You love her. _

It was an unchecked thought with such clarity that it should have bothered him, and yet he smiled. Why else would he find such simple pleasure in studying the shape of her exposed earlobe? He wondered how it would taste and how she would react. He wanted to give her the pleasure she deserved, and drive away all those worries and fears. He wanted to show her how it felt to be loved, both for who she was as a woman and what she meant to him. He wanted to shield her from those people who sought to use or hurt her. But above all, he wanted to have a future, with her.

_You love her._

Time seemed to stretch out before him as his mind wandered once more. The ship was quiet around them, his sanctuary. Unable to recall the last time he'd felt so at peace, despite the insanity of the day's events, there was no point in thinking too far ahead about what might happen once they reached Bespin and afterward. Better now to just live in the present and be grateful for what had fallen into his lap quite literally.

At some point he dozed off, but something snapped him back awake with a start. Scrubbing his eyes, he glanced over at the large chrono at the engineering station and was surprised to find more than a couple of hours had passed, leaving only one more before Leia's shift would come up again.

As if in objection, a soft sound, a gentle shift in her position, drew his attention back down. Forehead creased in a frown, her eyelids were clamped closed as she let out a sound of protest, her breathing changing to a faster pace. As her head rocked with a jerk on his lap, his careful optimism that she might sleep nightmare-free faded.

Hating to wake her when she so clearly needed a solid night of sleep, but fearing that whatever tormented her would do the job in any case, he debated only a moment before doing what he did best; he acted on instinct. Dropping a hand to touch her face, he grazed the backs of his fingers over her exposed cheek, then slipped his other hand under her head in hopes the comfort might somehow seep into her dreams. "Shhhhhh. I'm right here, Leia. Everything's okay. You're safe." His voice was quiet, a deep whisper.

There was a subtle change in her unconscious expression as Leia's breathing seemed to alter once more. He could see some of the worry-lines change as her dark eyebrows drew together, and for a second he imagined she'd said something as she shifted around, cheek pivoting in his hand.

Encouraged by his success so far, he repeated, "I'm right here. You're safe."

"Han…?" There was a child-like tone of surprise in her soft voice.

That was _not_ his imagination and he froze, wondering if she'd awakened after all, but it only took a few more seconds to realize that wasn't the case. Astounded, he straightened up.

_Now what? _

His only concern had been to stop the nightmare, which he seemed to have accomplished. Never had he imagined being able to tap into her dreams. For an instant a couple of less-than-noble ideas came to mind, but he rejected them without a second thought; the last thing he wanted to do was damage her trust any further than he had already.

"No," Leia muttered, "it's not like that... No."

Fascinated, he listened as she seemed to struggle with some internal conversation.

"Don't go. Please don't…I can't…"

Unanticipated, her words cut through him. Was that what she'd been dreaming about? His leaving to face Jabba? His leaving her?

_You're reading way too much into the nonsense of a dream that isn't even yours. It could be about anything, anybody._

Nevertheless, the nakedness of her plea, free of her usual conscious filters, tore at his heart. "I'm right here, Leia." He fumbled for more words, wondering what he could say to reassure her, before the obvious struck him.

"Love you," he said. The words tumbled out, as if they'd been leaning against a locked door for too long.

_It's okay now_._ She won't know. She probably won't even remember any of this._

But he'd said the words and meant them, and maybe somehow, deep down, it might give her some comfort. "I love you, Leia."

She moved again, rolling to burrow her face into his hand. "'s okay, I'm not hungry." Her voice was a dreamy whisper as it trailed off, her features smoothing over once more.

Grinning at the sleepy non sequitur, he watched as she seemed to fall back into a deeper sleep.

_That wasn't exactly the enthusiastic response you expected, was it?_

Leia stirred again, shifting around on the bench to roll over onto her back, one knee drawing up against the side of the acceleration couch. An arm rested across her middle where it gently rose and fell, while the other threatened to dangle off the edge of the bench, and her face was now half obscured by the curtain of long chestnut hair, full lips parted just enough to reveal a glimpse of white teeth. That mouth drew his eyes like a magnet, and now that he'd been there, tasted and explored its sweet depths, it was all he could do to keep from waking her up with another kiss.

Gratified that maybe his actions had made a difference, he waited to see if the nightmare returned, but her expression remained peaceful and he started dozing off again as a long quiet settled over them like a comfortable blanket.

The soft pinging from the engineering station across the lounge brought Han back to wakefulness with a start. When Leia didn't stir, he made a decision to leave her sleeping, but that still meant he had to get up and relieve Chewie. The alarm continued as he lifted her head just enough so he could slide out of the seat. Her head rolled to one side and she sighed but didn't awaken. Taking off his dark blue flight jacket, he folded it up and then lifted her head once more to wedge the makeshift pillow beneath. A bit surprised that she continued to sleep through all that, Han straightened up and groaned as his entire body protested. No doubt he'd regret falling asleep in that position, but as he walked over to the engineering station to switch off the remote alarm, he figured maybe it was worth it. Turning to head toward the cockpit, he met Chewbacca in the corridor.

"[I was coming to see if the princess knew her shift was up next. Why are you still awake?]"

"Long story, Buddy." He gestured back toward the petite figure sprawled out on the banquette, dressed in black fatigue pants, one of his white dress shirts, and those half-undone and rolled down blue snow boots.

Chewbacca tip-toed closer to see around the table, then nodded in understanding as he returned. "[That is the sappiest grin I have ever seen, and for you that's saying a lot.]"

In too good of a mood to let his partner's taunt bother him, Han shrugged. "Can't help it."

Looking back to their passenger, Chewie cocked his head to the side. "[Has she been asleep long?]"

"Only a few hours. Not nearly enough."

"[That's okay,]" the Wookiee volunteered, guessing where Han's thoughts were headed. "[I can do another shift this time.]"

"Thanks, Chewie. I owe ya."

"[And you'd better get some sleep, too. I'm not covering for both of you.]"

"Yeah, yeah."


	9. The awakening

**Chapter 9 — The awakening**

Leia wasn't sure which came into her awareness first, the bright over-head light or the lingering odor of stale kaffe. The fact that it wasn't an alarm or a nightmare was a pleasant change of affairs that allowed her the enjoyment of a sleepy limbo, including a full-body stretch—a long, slow, wonderful process as each limb and muscle awakened at its own pace. However, the idle was broken when her hand whacked against something hard and unyielding overhead. Eyes snapping open, she found herself staring up in confusion at the underside of a holochess table.

_Oh Goddess, did I really drink that much again?_

The panicked thought dissipated as various facts trickled in: she wasn't hung over; she wasn't back at the university, and it wasn't the day after her Majority party; and those were the distinct sounds of the _Millennium Falcon_'s sub-light engines as she trundling her way toward a distant oasis in the desert of open space. At first all Leia could recall was collapsing onto her cot in the number three hold, and it took a few moments more before the rest finished snapping into place: wandering the corridor, haunted by nightmares, and finding Han here at the table lost in his own thoughts. She'd been so tired, so physically and emotionally drained from the long day, that she must have fallen asleep at his side.

That thought generated a mixture of embarrassment and guilty pleasure.

_You've always wondered what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms—not quite this way, but still_…

Twisting around on the bench to sit up, she wondered if she should feel a bit scandalized by that image, but then gave up on it; as far as she could tell, he'd been a complete gentleman. With a long yawn, she scratched her head, then slumped back against the acceleration couch before noticing the folded blue flight jacket she'd been using as a pillow. That had been considerate of him; her neck would be even stiffer than it felt now. She craned her head around until there was a rewarding pop. The dregs of kaffe in the abandoned mug on the table made her look over with longing toward the tiny galley. Without natural sunlight, she had no clue what time it was, but a glance over to the engineering station answered that. It took another long moment to process the chrono display.

"Oh, kreth!"

The Corellian curse, surely picked up from associating with the criminal element, was out of her mouth in a harsh exhalation as, suddenly wide awake, she shot out of the bench, up the step and then down the stretch of corridor to the cockpit.

Apologies began tumbling before she'd cleared the open hatch. "Chewie, I'm so sorry! I can't believe I just slept through my shift. Somebody should have woken me up! I promise I'll make it up somehow."

Chewbacca swiveled his chair around to look at her as if she were a madwoman. Then he gave a big shrug. "[No worries, Princess. We did not want to disturb you.]"

"What? No, no, that won't do. I'm part of the crew. I messed up and I'm sorry. I can take over right now and—"

"[There is no need. I am fine, and there is still time remaining before the next change. You will take the next shift.]"

Mortified that she'd already committed a major breach of shipboard etiquette little more than one day into their journey, Leia had trouble believing he was this cavalier about it.

"[This is not a military ship,]" Chewie added, in a clear attempt to relieve her worries. "[We are flexible. We often cover for each other when necessary, and that is what I did.]"

Despite his statement, Leia couldn't help feeling derelict in her duties.

_This is not a good start, Leia._

A glance over at the alarm on the communication's display confirmed she still had about twenty minutes before it went off again.

"[Did you sleep better?]"

Looking back, Leia felt embarrassed to learn he knew of her troubles. "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry, Chewie. I'm not sure how to make this up to you…"

"[There is no need. I am happy to have your help and your company.]"

Mollified somewhat, she ducked her head. "Thanks. I promise it won't happen again." Debating what to do next, she realized there was one pressing matter that demanded her attention. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

Exiting the cockpit and heading for the galley, she berated herself.

_This is what happens when you allow distractions and exhaustion to mix_._ You're _not_ on a pleasure cruise and this is _not_ a vacation._

After pausing to start up a new pot of kaffe, she headed for the crews' quarters to use the fresher. Just as she was about to palm open the door, she froze in place, realizing that Han was probably still asleep in that hedonistic bunk in Goddess only knew what stage of undress. Hand dropping, she stared at the door.

_What if he wakes up? Do I want him to wake up? _

Leia shook her head. No, he needed his sleep more than any of them. But she needed the fresher—that was no longer an issue up for debate.

_You can stand here in the hallway arguing with yourself, or you can just go in._

Now embarrassed by her own indecision, Leia gently touched the hatch plate, as if that might somehow make it open with a quieter hiss. The door whisked aside and she stood still in the hatchway as her eyes went straight to the occupied bunk at the opposite end. His large form was hidden in the shadows of the sleep shelf, not stirring, and it occurred to her that he was likely used to the door opening for the same reason she was there now. The room was lit only by a sliver of dim red light coming from the open fresher door to her right, plus the bright swath of white light spilling in from behind her. Realizing it wasn't the most polite thing to do, dithering in the doorway, she stepped inside to let the hatch close and walked into the fresher. Closing the door, she switched the overhead light to normal and then paused in front of the small mirror mounted above the sink.

Hair down and a bit wild from sleep, any traces of makeup long gone, she looked quite different from the way she preferred to present herself. In attempting to look older for credibility's sake, it was easy to forget her real age, little more than a year beyond Majority. Plus, sometimes she just felt old with all the responsibility and guilt she shouldered weighing down on her soul. Only one person seemed capable of lifting that burden on a consistent basis, calling back the real Leia, and that man was sound asleep in the bunk just outside the door. Han not only reminded her of better times and happier emotions (even though most of those memories were from before she knew him), but he emphasized the fact she was a woman in ways no one else could or dared. At some point in her life she'd skipped right over romance and relationships in her quest to serve a greater cause, but Han threatened to reintroduce all those things, ignoring her protests while drawing her back—to her humanity, her individuality, and her feelings. For a long time she'd resented him for this, for making her feel again…but lately she'd come to see that he was one of the few people who even cared if she were whole again, and that eased her apprehension. Rieekan, Luke, Chewbacca, Kristin…and Han. For someone taking on the evils of a mighty Empire, that was an awfully small circle of friends, and growing smaller…

Recognizing that she was taking too long, Leia hurried through her ablutions. For a fleeting moment she considered another hot shower—she didn't think she could ever have too many, especially after Hoth—but there was no time. Instead, she grabbed the brush and pins from the storage cabinet behind the mirror, where she'd permanently transferred them after accepting the reality of their predicament. She would braid it later while on watch.

More mindful of the light this time, Leia switched it back to the night-vision-friendly red and waited for her eyes to adjust before cracking open the door and stepping out. Her eyes better accustomed to the dark cabin this time, she could make out more details as her gaze once again settled on the occupied bunk.

Han lay on his side, his back to her, the sheet and blanket offering just a glimpse of bare shoulders. There had been numerous times when she'd seen him without his shirt—while working in the stifling heat and humidity of the Rebel bases on Yavin IV and Serricci, or to dress a wound, or sometimes just because he had a tendency to strip it off in front of her to provoke a reaction (although almost never the one he hoped). Seeing him this way, though, gave her the strongest urge to run her hand along the smooth plane of his back, to feel the skin and muscle there. Her next natural thought was to wonder what he wore beneath the covers, if anything, and that gave her a nervous thrill.

Blinking back to reality, she shook off the desire to step closer, and instead spun with determination toward the door. Chewie would not let her get off so easily if she was late again. Once out in the corridor, she hurried back to the galley to pour a mug of kaffe and grab a plate of some cheese and fruit to take with her.

Entering the cockpit once more, she announced, "Okay, I'm ready. Anything I should know?"

"[All clear, Princess. She is all yours.]" Standing, Chewbacca stretched as best he could beneath the low clearance of the cockpit ceiling. "[I will be back in the engineering bay if you need anything.]" With that, he reached over to reset the alarm and then exited.

Setting the plate and mug on the seat he'd just vacated, she glanced around the cabin. Still amazed Solo trusted her enough to hand the _Falcon_ over like this, Leia never would have imagined being at the helm at all, let alone for hours on end. The ship might once have been just another obsolete and nondescript Corellian YT-class freighter that had seen better days, but there was a lot more beneath the scored and pitted surface; she was Han's ship, and his spirit seemed to inhabit the fast spacecraft, quirky personality and all.

Chewbacca's statement from the day before, about the faith Han had in her, returned to mind and she mulled over it. She'd always qualified her confidence in him—not in his abilities, but in his motives, and considering how secretive and contrary he was on top of his refusal to formally join the Rebellion, she felt every right to have reservations. Maybe it was time to show a little faith once more.

With a wry grin, Leia shook her head and reached over to retrieve her drink, and then settled into the seat. It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for one's perspective. Relaxing, she sipped her kaffe and watched the stars.


	10. The fix

**Chapter 10 — The fix**

"Here, hold this for me."

Standing beside Han, Leia accepted the rephaser he handed over, then watched with mild curiosity as he worked on the rear shield capacitors—or at least that's what he said they were. Only knowing how to turn them on and off from the cockpit controls, she didn't have the slightest clue what they looked like.

A day's worth of assisting with repairs for most of the day brought home the reality of the extent of damage the _Falcon_ had suffered; it was a miracle none of the life-support systems had failed. Helping out as best she could with Chewie, and now with Han, she knew that the duo got more done while she was up front. Even so, Leia found the experience both an education in the mind-boggling complexities of a working spaceship, and a crash-course in the two spacers themselves. Both were knowledgeable, innovative, and held a deep affection for the temperamental ship—things she'd already known, but to her chagrin, had never appreciated. What was new was her attitude.

For instance, their work habits varied a great deal. Chewbacca became quite loquacious, whether it was about the specific repairs they were making (her translating skills faltered on the technical terms, so he would carefully phrase them to accommodate), his family and home, or about Alliance missions and other adventures. She wasn't entirely sure the Wookiee was supposed to be telling her some of those stories—not while Han still remained tight-lipped about his past—but she wasn't about to stop him, either.

Han, on the other hand, tended more toward little conversation while working. Sometimes he would become so focused that they remained silent for long minutes at a time. During those lulls she would catch herself wondering how it would feel to be the center of his undivided attention like that, and then she would question her own sanity for feeling jealous of a ship. But when he did talk, he would stop to look right at her, giving her a taste of what it could be like. Their topics leaned toward current events, culture, and business within the Rebellion, but there were other things she wished the man would talk about; things that still needed to be addressed between them. Unsure of how to bring them up, she was even less sure that she wanted to know the answers.

Another discovery was how much she enjoyed helping Han work. Among other things, it gave her an excuse to study him up close: how his strong hands were careful and confident at their task; how his concentration caused little lines around the corners of his eyes; how a smile transformed his face whenever the ship responded positively to whatever he'd done. If he had noticed when her gaze would drift from matters at hand to him, he didn't mention it, and that just seemed to encourage her daydreaming. Sometimes he stood so close that she could smell the faint trace of soap and cologne mixed with his more distinctive masculine scent, teasing her senses. There was also an almost constant urge to touch him now—something she struggled against because there was work to be done. But whenever he bent low to work on some circuitry or machinery, it was all she could do to keep from digging her fingers into his thick hair, or running her hand along his solid shoulders. Until now she'd never felt an impulse to massage someone, but that was what kept filling her mind as she watched him once again reach back with a grimace and rub his neck; she suspected he would approve no matter how inexpert she was at it.

"Okay, give me the number three hydrospanners."

Leia squatted down next to the tray at her feet to dig through the loose tools until she found the one he needed. Passing it up, she chose to stay down there in case he called for another tool right away, but her eyes roved up his tall frame. This morning he'd switched back to an old work shirt without the black utility vest that often accompanied it. Also gone was his low-slung holster and blaster, which now hung, for quick access, from a peg near the entrance ramp.

_He looks strange without that thing._

Star-tanned and lean, he attracted her in ways she wasn't sure she understood. His exposed throat fascinated her, as did that prominent scar on his chin, and the way his arms bulged in the shirt sleeves, and when his eyes crinkled like they were right now as he looked down at her with that knowing grin…

"Anything I can help you with?" he interrupted in a smooth purr.

Snapping out of her reverie, Leia felt herself flush hot. She straightened up, brushing her hands, trying to find something to say that wasn't incriminating. "I was just thinking…"

"I noticed. Must've been pretty good to make you blush like that."

None of the old retorts, the usual denials and sarcasm, felt appropriate anymore; all she had left was either truth or deflection, and she wasn't ready for the truth yet. "Why did Chewie say that you knew the weaknesses of Corellian KDY ships better than most within the Imperial Navy?"

Clearly not anticipating such a random question, Han's head reared back. "He said _what_?"

"I asked him how you two knew about that blind spot on the star destroyer. He said you knew the Kuat Drive Yards ships better than anyone."

Han's features clouded over, as if a summer storm were passing through.

Realizing too late that she might have stumbled across a taboo subject from his past, Leia backpedaled. "We were just talking. I only asked because it's a good flaw to know about…Was that the first time you exploited it?"

Solo continued staring at her.

_He's doing damage control again, isn't he?_ _As though you'd know one way or the other if he were lying._

"No, that was the first time. But it's not something I want to advertise, or else they'll fix it."

Nodding, she said, "Right. My lips are sealed."

His gaze dropped to the lips in question and stayed there, as if mulling over ways to open them.

_This is ridiculous!_

She was blushing again, and it didn't help when he leaned against a bulkhead brace, his narrow hips slanting at a distracting angle as he gave off that laid-back, cheeky vibe that got to her every time.

Not missing this, Han began an idle tapping of the hydrospanners against the palm of his opposite hand. "What else did he tell you?"

In an effort to appear nonchalant, she shrugged and went on. "That you won the _Falcon_ in a Sabacc game."

"That was no secret."

"He said you cheated."

That maddening smile was back, although she couldn't tell if it was due to fond memories of his own escapades or amusement at her lame attempt to redirect his attention. "I just cheated better. Lando thought he had the game all sewn up, but I figured out his system."

Blinking up at him, her pleasant buzz fizzled out. "Lando? The _same_ Lando?"

Han had the decency to look abashed, some of his cockiness fading. "Yeah."

With a heavy sigh, Leia closed her eyes.

_Why doesn't that surprise me?_

She was starting to wonder if Solo's past was nothing more than an endless supply of unhappy people, and if someday she'd be just another name on the list. In any case, now was not the time to be dependent on one of those people; not when they had so few options.

"Hey, it was a long time ago. Like I said, he was perfectly happy cheating _me_. I just beat him at his own game."

"Well, in that case I'm sure all's forgiven." The sarcastic comment slipped out before she could check it, and Han looked on the verge of snapping out a remark to match, but then seemed to catch himself. Not wishing to start an argument, she was grateful one of them still had some self-control. "I hope he doesn't hold a grudge," she added in a softer one.

"Yeah, me too." Han's thoughts were masked once more.

Not for the first time, Leia wondered what he wasn't saying, and moments like these served as reminders of just how little she knew him. Numerous missions, often under life-threatening conditions, left her with the impression he was a more honorable, reliable and even optimistic man than he would admit—that under all the bravado and cynicism was in essence a good man. Of course, he could also be over-confident, arrogant and irritable, but something in that blend still appealed to her. He'd proved loyal to those few he considered friends, and had little tolerance for fools or incompetence—all qualities she appreciated because she shared them. And yet his life before their meeting was a mystery, not so much a closed book but one missing entire chapters, forcing her to piece the little bits she overheard together with imagined adventures of him roaming from one corner of the galaxy to another enjoying a freedom her younger self envied. But the adult in her recognized a starker truth; it had to be a lonely life at times, and there had to be hardships, betrayals and bitter disappointments along the way to mold the cynic he'd become. Could a man be an optimist and a skeptic at the same time? She hadn't thought so until they met, but as usual, he defied the rules. A mystery and a contradiction, Han Solo was a challenge that she got the feeling she could spend the rest of her life trying to figure out…

"You're thinking again."

Leia shook her head and lowered her gaze to study the tops of her boots. "It's nothing."

_You just saw his reaction when you touched too close to his past._ _You know next to nothing about this man. Why are you so ready to hand over your heart?_

Despite being unable to think of a single good answer to that ultimate question, here she stood, wishing he would open up just a little bit so she could invest everything.

Straightening up and dropping the hydrospanners into the tray on the floor, Han closed the distance between them with one step. "I _know_ you, Sweetheart. It's not 'nothing'."

Leia wavered with each breath, his body so close she could feel his heat. It would take nothing more than to lean forward to touch him, and she desperately wanted to do that, but instead she closed her eyes. "I don't know _you._"

A moment later there was a finger under her chin, tipping her face up toward his, and then a thumb stroked along her cheekbone. The gesture was simple, but his gaze drew her in like a tractor beam.

"You know what's important."

Something within her wanted to settle for that, wanted to let go of all her doubts and just accept his comment at face value, but her instincts for self-preservation wouldn't allow it. "But…That's not _fair_, Han. My life…my entire life is in the public domain." She pointed in the direction of the cockpit. "You can pull my name up on that damned datapad and know everything about me. My grade point average in the university. What I did on my eleventh birthday. My favorite color. Everything! But all I know about you is what little you and Chewie tell me, or what came from the arrest records Intelligence dug up while hacking the Imperial Internal Security files. And even _that_ hits a duracrete wall ten years back—anything before then is a complete blank."

She swore Han's eyes twinkled. "You read my records?"

Old habits made she stiffen in defense. "Of course I read them. That's my job."

"Of course," he agreed with an exaggerated nod. "Convenient."

Her thoughts turned murderous.

_I'm trying to be serious about whatever the hell this is between us, and he still wants to tease!_

The texture of his thumb as it rubbed against her cheek, his fingers along the back of her neck, caused a warm friction to spread down her spine, making the fine hairs stand up. It wasn't helping. "You really are obnoxious sometimes," she pointed out in a softer tone.

"What about the rest of the time?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Who's changing the subject? It's still about me, right?"

She narrowed her eyes, now beginning to feel genuine anger. Was he incapable of being serious just once?

"Hey, I _told_ you I'd give you access to the ship's computers. It's all there, both the official and the real logs. Weren't you paying attention?"

That statement made Leia pause, stealing some of her momentum. Lost in the emotional upheaval of the day before, she _had_ forgotten.

Han shrugged. "They're just the ship's logs, not journals, but it's something. As for the rest…If you really need to know something, you could try asking. But I'll warn you, it's not that interesting."

"Yes, well…I'll be the judge of that, okay?" Embarrassed, she offset the admission by lifting her head to a regal tilt.

_If there's going to be any sort of future in this, I need to start owning up to the fact that I'm interested in him._

Solo's expression was suddenly an odd mix of mirth and mischief. "My favorite color is green, same as yours."

In spite of herself, Leia felt a smile tease up a corner of her mouth. She _had_ liked that dark green shirt he wore that first day back on Ord Mantell, and in particular how it had complimented his eyes. Then she remembered how the shirt had been lost, abandoned along with the slinky black dress he'd given her as a Majority gift and everything else they'd packed for their stay at the resort. Only then did it dawn on her that he must have researched her as well to know her favorite color, and her stomach flip-flopped. No doubt enjoying the parade of emotions across her face, his grin widened.

"I have no clue what I did for my eleventh birthday."

_Leave it to Han to miss the point. _

"Han, that wasn't really what—"

"I attended the Naval Academy for two years before I was kicked out."

Having always suspected a formal advanced education of some sort, his exaggerated coarseness notwithstanding, this revelation didn't surprise her, but before she could inquire further, Han went on with the affected air of someone doing an interview.

"I enjoy the occasional smashball game, long walks on a beach, a good bottle of wine, and watching you blush…Yeah, just like that."

Leia rolled her eyes. "All right, I think that's about—"

"And I _love_ it when you do that."

Mystified, she froze. "Do what?"

"Roll your eyes like that. It drives me crazy."

It was obvious she was losing control of this conversation. "I give up, this is—"

"Want to know what my grade point average was?"

Rolling her eyes again, she began to shake her head. "You're insane. I don't know why I—"

As if she'd pushed him too far, Han's reaction was swift and decisive. He kissed her. It was solid, affectionate, and over before she had a chance to do more than close her eyes. The distance was gone between them, even as he leaned back enough to gauge her reaction.

"You're _still_ insane."

His look grew determined, as if he were reassessing the challenge, then he bowed down to give the kiss the old Academy try.

_Maybe I'm insane, too, _was the incoherent thought that went through Leia's mind before her misgivings dissolved for a little while. _Do two insanes equal one sane?_

That probably wasn't a lucid hypothesis, but then it was a bit difficult being rational at the moment.


	11. The move

**Chapter 11 — The move**

It was late, more than halfway into her eight-hour sleeping block, and yet Leia found herself wandering the circular corridor of the _Falcon_ once more, like a specter rattling around in search of resolution, looking for someone to ease her loneliness. She'd slept some, more than the last time she'd been in her cot, but the nightmares had returned to leave her chilled and aching for companionship. Luck was not with her tonight as she discovered there was no convenient and charming Corellian holding vigil in the lounge to distract her. Instead, the acceleration couch was abandoned, the top of the holochess table bare. Rather than a rumbling voice to cancel out the ones from her dreams, there was just the soft hum of the environmental systems and the sub-light engines. The ship was so still that her own soft footsteps on the metal deck plates echoed around her, the only sensation of movement in the main hold coming from the occasional blink of colored indicator lights at the unmanned engineering station off to one side.

With each circuit around the ship, the princess found herself pausing outside the crew cabin door, fighting an inner voice that whispered it would be okay to seek Han's company, like she had the night before.

_Don't be so naïve—approaching him in his bunk is inviting a lot more than just conversation._

There was no doubt that he would welcome her. He would hold her and soothe her fears; he would protect her like he had so many times before. But he'd also propositioned her countless instances, almost from the day they'd met, often quite seriously, and she couldn't reasonably expect him to stop with a hug anymore, not when she wasn't even sure she wanted him to stop.

For so long she had rejected the idea of sleeping with Han as an unneeded distraction, an indulgent and impractical fantasy that would be foolish in the end…but of late her entire world had spun around and those reasons no longer outweighed her deeper instincts.

Walking on, all the conflicting obligations awaiting them at the end of their journey swirled through her head. At the passageway to the cockpit, she paused with the temptation of joining Chewbacca and using him as a sounding board since he knew Solo better than anyone—but then she kept walking. He didn't deserve enduring the angst-ridden ramblings of a confused and love-sick woman, and certainly not if it put him in the position of compromising his close friendship with Han.

Luke came to mind as well. Concern of his wellbeing never left her, but she missed him in particular tonight. Yet even though he was her closest friend, this was a topic she never felt comfortable bringing up with him. While she knew Luke's crush on her had faded into mutual fondness (and if rumors Han spread about Luke's escapades with a certain buxom med-tech were anything to go by, he was well over his infatuation), there was still a lingering sense of something deeper between them—something she avoided examining on purpose. It didn't necessarily conflict with how she felt about Han, but it muddied the waters just the same.

No, the company Leia missed most right now was Lieutenant Aldritch, the only close female friend left in her adult life. Worry about Kristin's safety following the battle on Hoth compounded the sense of longing for her companionship. The older woman was sure to have an opinion on this matter. In fact, Leia's rocky relationship with Han had become a pet topic, although it wasn't until now that Leia felt ready to open up and pour out all her emotions and fears for the two of them to sort through.

Then again, she could guess what Kristin would say—in fact what she'd been saying for the past year: quit fighting the obvious; life comes with no guarantees, so don't expect one now; life's too short to squander rare opportunities for happiness, even temporary ones; and everyone takes a risk in love. That kind of wisdom came from years of experience, and Leia appreciated it as such, but her situation just seemed so much more complicated than most.

What she needed was someone to either talk her out of what she was contemplating, or to tell her to go for it—but just do _something_. In matters both public and private she strove to be thorough, calculating, a perfectionist…but it was a learned behavior that often rankled against her nature, that of trusting her instincts and making quick decisions. Her tutors had called it reckless, that urge toward action, but it had served her well more often than not. And if she listened to her heart now…

_I wouldn't stop him_. _If Han asked me now, I wouldn't say no._

The revelation caused her to halt in her path down the step into the lounge.

The most significant questions between them were still left unanswered, foremost being the reluctant understanding that their time might be finite. Was she willing to settle for a romance with a built-in deadline? Still, the remaining shard of a once-optimistic young woman held out a whisper of hope: what if Han paid off Jabba and came back? All her life she'd been a gambler of sorts, willing to accept the risks if the rewards were worth it—and if there was anyone she was willing to bet on surviving the odds, it was Han Solo. How he made her feel with each smile, each soul-stirring kiss, was a reward on which she would be wagering everything.

Whether or not she acted on them, her feelings for Han were present and real. What advantage could be gained by denying them any longer? Which would be harder to deal with, loving and losing him, or always yearning and wondering what might have been? A day ago she had feared the loss more, but now she wasn't so sure. At least one option had the potential for leaving happier memories.

'_Trust your feelings_,' was one of Luke's favorite sayings. Leia sighed at the irony; he would no doubt be appalled to know she was using that as a rationalization for sleeping with his best friend.

Leia's circuitous route brought her back once again to the bunk room hatch, and she stared at it for a long moment, and then glanced at the slim chrono strapped to her wrist to find there were still three hours until her next shift. Tired though she was, the prospect of going back to her stark cabin alone held no appeal, while the restful sleep of the night before, in Han's company, tantalized her. Maybe a compromise seemed in order tonight. Maybe she could find a middle ground, a half-way mark where she could stop to test the waters and find some decent sleep in the meantime.

Making her decision, she double-checked the recurring alarm on her chrono, set to go off every eight hours; it would wake her in time to relieve Chewie in the cockpit. With a steadying breath, she opened the hatch and stopped just inside as it closed, waiting while her eyes adjusted to the dim red light. Then again, her heart was pounding so hard that it might wake Han up anyway.

Taking another symbolic step, Leia chose one of the spare bunks, reached to draw back the covers, and then turned to sit on the edge. After kicking off her boots to the side, she straightened up and paused, allowing her gaze to settle on the occupied bunk adjacent to hers. Han was sleeping on his stomach, head turned away, with one arm stretched out beneath his pillow. She couldn't make out much else in the dark.

Close enough now that she could hear his deep breathing, it was so easy to imagine how it would be to lie beside him; to fit up against and allow his strong body to shield her from the rest of the universe. Even while his protective streak chafed against her independent nature at times, it was a comforting fact, something she felt ashamed to admit she took for granted. His mercenary attitude had been her convenient excuse to keep him at arms' length, but she knew the pittance the Alliance paid him didn't warrant the risks he took. Despite their occasional squabbles, how many times had he fought beside her, defended her, sacrificed more than anyone could reasonably expect for a woman who at best still treated him as just a friend, and at worst…? It was clear that his motivation wasn't just greed or lust or even friendship —it was something much deeper and far more forgiving.

_Is that what love is like?_

Hands at her sides, she gripped the edge of the bunk and squeezed her eyes closed.

_You had to go there, didn't you? Love?_

There was no sense dodging around the fact anymore. If any hint of doubt had remained of her feelings for him, it was silenced by the keen longing that overwhelmed her now, being so close and yet apart.

He'd demonstrated often enough through actions if not words how he felt, and for too long she'd struggled from one justification to another to deny the truth, but it was time to be honest.

Reaching to untie the drawstring of her loose pants, she slipped them off and laid them at the foot of her bunk. Still in his large shirt, she stretched out on her side under the covers and propped up the pillow. From that position she watched the still figure in the adjoining alcove until at some point her eyes must have closed.


	12. The vote

**Chapter 12 — The vote**

Mug of steaming kaffe in hand, feeling exceptionally up-beat, Han strode down the short corridor leading to the cockpit.

_If that unmade bunk next to yours is any indication, things are finally going your way._ _Whatever you're doing, just keep doing it!_

"Morning, Sweetheart," he called out as the cockpit hatch slid open. If that sounded more chipper than was decent for this early in the day, who could blame him?

Leia was concentrating on the comp screen in front of his usual seat, and from the way she jumped and reached to clear the screen, he guessed she was doing a little digging.

"Good morning." Relaxing back in the pilot's chair, she glanced at her chrono. "You're early."

"Yeah, but we've got some business first." Dropping into the co-pilot's seat, he triggered the ship's intercom. "Chewie, get up here." Flipping the link back off, he crossed a booted ankle over the opposite knee, and gazed at Leia with a pleased grin. Despite her long hair being pulled back in a simple single braid, the lack of make-up, and the unflattering clothing and snow boots, she looked awfully good this morning.

Although she remained silent, there was obvious curiosity in her expression now, and maybe a little trepidation, as if she expected him to broach the subject of her whereabouts last night. That was topped off with an arched eyebrow he swore was a silent challenge.

_I don't know what's gotten into her since yesterday, but so far I like it._

They'd had staring matches in the past—mostly angry battles of will—but maybe this was the start of a new and better game. As if reading his thought, her other eyebrow rose as her head tipped to the side, communicating innocence of whatever he was implying by his grin.

_Careful there, Solo. She'll be fierce competition without that embarrassment handicap. _

Their peaceful little stand-off was interrupted as Chewbacca arrived. "[What's the matter?]"

"I'm calling a meeting because I've got a decision to make, and I figured I should put it up to a vote."

"How democratic of you," Leia mused, fielding with ease the light-weight scowl he tossed her way.

"I'm doing this for your benefit, Your Worship, so listen up. We've got a choice—we can either keep doing these damned shifts the rest of the way to Bespin, or we can stop the ship and try to repair whatever's wrong with the sensor array."

Leia finally broke eye contact to glance up at Chewie before returning to him. "How long do you think that will take?"

Han shrugged. "No idea. Won't know until we're out there. Could be a simple fix, or it could take a couple of days. Worst case, we tack on a few extra days for nothing if it still doesn't work…Then again, if we can get the sensors up and running, at least we can switch to autopilot and quit the four-hour rotations."

Leia nodded, appearing to appreciate why he sought their input rather than just make a decision as captain—this was comfort versus the extension of an already-long journey, and the possibility of rationing meant it had a direct affect on them all. "Do we have enough supplies?"

"For a few extra days? I think so."

"Then I vote we at least try. I don't like flying blind for so long in this region."

They both looked up to Chewbacca, who gave a big shrug. "[I'm with the princess.]"

"Sure you are." With a roll of his eyes, Han stood. "That's settled. Let's get to work."

"Han…"

The audible, uncharacteristic unease in her voice made him stop short and turn back to her in concern.

"Do you need my help out there?"

Meeting her look, he was abruptly reminded of her dislike for spacewalks. Hell, dislike was too mild a term for the panic attack he'd witnessed weeks ago on Ord Mantell. That she was working up the nerve to offer assistance this morning despite her dread gave him a rush of affection.

_She's a real trouper, this one. _

"Nope, I need you stay right here. Test the systems when we tell you to, and just keep an eye on things. You know where the quad cannon controls are."

With clear relief, she accepted the assignment with a nod.

"Go take a break if you need one, Sweetheart. Then we'll get suited up."

"Okay."

She rose to her feet beside him, intending to pass by and follow the Wookiee out, but acting on an impulse, Han caught her arm and pulled her back until she butted up against him. As her face turned up to his in surprised curiosity, he took advantage of that to plant a kiss on those irresistible lips. His intention was to end it quick before Chewie could notice her absence, but Leia seemed to have other plans. Just as fast, she gripped his shoulders, pulling him down as her mouth opened against his with a passion that caught him off guard. More than happy to leave her at the controls this time, he savored the feeling as she indulged in their intimate embrace, then held him close a little while longer, her lips just brushing his. When she finally stopped, her eyes opened and she searched his face for something, as if she'd just administered a test and was analyzing the results. Maybe she had.

_What exactly happened last night, and how the hell did you sleep through it?_

His tactic for the past year had been to keep her off-balance with escalating innuendos and compliments and attention, an enjoyable game he hoped would someday tip her in his direction, but he got the distinct impression she'd just flipped the table on him.

"You'd better—" he started, loath to break the mood but dreading the inevitable criticism from Chewbacca if they were caught fooling around with kissing techniques while the Wookiee waited to get on with repairs.

"I'd better…" she agreed, releasing him. With obvious reluctance, she stepped away and palmed open the hatch.

Watching her petite figure until the cockpit door closed, Han drew a deep breath before letting it out with a sharp huff.

_Why do I suddenly get the feeling four weeks won't be nearly enough?_


	13. The debate

**Chapter 13 — The debate**

Working in the hostile environment of deep space was never an easy prospect, all the more so when it came to conducting delicate repairs. Corralling tools and disassembled ships components was a challenge, and the awkward gloves compounded the problem. Unlike many beings (Leia Organa included) who found the experience disorienting or frightening, Han enjoyed the sensation of weightlessness out in the endless expanse of the open stars, but even he was exhausted after working at it for most of the day.

Reminded again of that rare moment of terror in Leia's eyes when they'd been forced to make an unorthodox departure via a deep-space construction site back on Ord Mantell, he grinned at the thought of how she'd handled the situation, and how she'd planned and executed an ambush that took out both bounty hunters to save his hide. That was no small feat, and the display of sheer guts still impressed him.

_Just another reason why_ _you like her, Buddy._ _Even in distress, that damsel is still dangerous._

Then again, Leia had left a lot of impressions on him lately, including her fingerprints from that last kiss. What he had planned as a little kiss, something to ponder while she manned the cockpit alone, she had hijacked and turned into—

"[Are you just going to stare at it with that stupid grin on your face, or are you going to test it so we can go back inside?]"

Chewbacca's query echoed inside Han's helmet, startling him out of his reverie.

"[Now is not the time to be daydreaming,]" Chewie added for emphasis.

Aware that their mikes were open and channeling through the cockpit, Han threw an irritated look at his co-pilot. "Shut up, Chewie. I'm nearly done here, all right?"

"[Good, I'm getting hungry.]"

"You're always hungry."

"[All the more reason to wrap this up.]"

Han finished reconnecting the power line within the exposed innards at the base of the sensor dish, and then with Chewie's help, they remounted the hull plate. Their magnetized boots and tether lines keeping them from drifting away from the _Falcon_, they took a few steps back to eye their handiwork.

"Leia, you still there?"

There was a brief silence before her voice responded. "I'm here."

"Okay, power up the short-range system."

"Powering up….now."

Holding his breath, Han watched for some indication of failure. The fact that nothing visable happened was a good sign in this case. "Any readings?"

There was another pause over the intercom before her pleased voice filled his ears again. "Yes, I've got both of you on the screen, and nothing else visible."

"Great! Now try the long-range system."

"Powering up…now."

A moment later the sensor dish rotated on its pivot mount, completing a full circle. Han let out a heartfelt sigh; it was a good day when nothing shorted out or blew up.

"I'm getting long-range readings. It's working!" There was clear relief in Leia's tone.

"That's it. Come on, Chewie, we're done out here."

Minutes later they were back inside the _Falcon_ and stripping off the enviro suits.

"Hey, Buddy, what do you say we have a real meal, table for three?" Han asked as he began to stow away the gear in a compartment in the corridor where they stood.

The Wookiee gave a big toothy grin. "[Give me an hour. I already know what to make.]"

Laughing as his partner trotted in the direction of the galley, Han finished packing away the equipment before heading for the cockpit. When he arrived, he found Leia seated at the co-pilot's station, still watching the readouts for any sign of malfunction. "Everything seems to be checking out okay," she reported.

"That should make our lives a whole lot easier," he summed up as he fell into his well-worn seat and fired up the sub-light engines. "Could've been a lot worse."

"There's some good news," Leia granted with a smile. "I assume you're still going to leave Threepio switched off?"

Han shot her a look of disbelief as he finished activating the autopilot. "Do you miss him?"

"No, not really," she demurred.

While she was usually accompanied by Threepio, he swore there was a tussle going on between Leia and Luke as to who owned the obnoxious protocol droid, each convinced the other should take him.

_Just my luck she had to lose the last round._

"Chewie's gone back to make us a proper meal for a change."

The groan Leia let out was something right out of one of his fantasies, and Han had to shift in his seat in sudden discomfort.

Oblivious, she went on. "That sounds wonderful. Does he need help?"

"Nah, he prefers cooking alone—plus he pretty much takes up that galley all by himself."

With a smile, Leia sank back and folded her legs up to one side beneath her. Seeming to have run out of small talk, she ran her elegant fingers along an armrest, lost in thought. He loved watching when she was like this; meditative and a little hesitant, as if searching for a way to bring up whatever was on her mind, she was so beautiful at repose. While not always thrilled with the topics she broached, he nevertheless enjoyed the build-up.

Leia was a petite bundle of strengths and weaknesses that fascinated him without end; beyond her looks and sharp wit, there was this mystery of what made her who she was now. For some reason beyond his comprehension, he wanted to understand and become a part of that unknown, a part of what made her complete. He wanted to claim and keep that heart she shielded so carefully from everyone. He wanted to protect, bolster, and feed that force of character within her, just as she seemed to feed his own need for validation—a need he hadn't even realized he'd possessed until their introduction. Yet something drove him to prove his worth to this dispossessed princess.

_And that's exactly what you've been doing for the past two years, isn't it? Proving yourself to her, and yourself._

He imagined he could see it whenever he helped out with a sticky mission, or scored a bit of classified Imperial information, or when he managed to save a life; he saw her gratitude and affection, even when she struggled to express it. That was why he'd stayed.

"We need to talk…about what happens later."

And there it was—the ultimate topic. The one he dreaded most, the one he saw haunting her eyes every time he looked into them.

"What? After we eat?"

Leia frowned, and he realized she wasn't about to let him off that easy. "Please, Han…I need you to be serious. After we reach Bespin…"

Staring at her for a long moment, imagining his chances of sealing the deal with Leia swirling down the drain, his heart dropped somewhere in the vicinity of his boots. For years he'd patiently—well, not always patiently—worked and waited for her, and so often it seemed that just when he was ready to give up on the effort, some little hint of what he sought would emerge to revive his determination. After all that time and investment, he'd begun to see dividends while on Ord Mantell; the interest had seemed to compound when she'd moved into his cabin last night, and he'd dared to hope it would pay off with interest. But this was her test now, and he was about to fail it.

"I need to know, Han," she prompted, and he couldn't translate her expression because he'd never seen it before, somewhere between optimism and yearning and dread, if that were possible. "I think I deserve a serious answer."

Han swallowed, but held her gaze. "Once you're back safe with the Alliance, I need to take care of business with Jabba. You know that."

"Safe," she echoed under her breath, as if mocking the notion. "So you just drop me off and I never see you again?"

The bluntness of her wording, the brutal finality of it, made Han wince. "Not if I can help it."

"Okay, then tell me what you mean by that, exactly."

He'd rarely seen her like this, not with him, and certainly never about them; this was the unrelenting politician and Rebel leader he'd usually preferred to avoid.

_She's going to make you spell it out, Pal. Even the parts you don't want to think about._

"It means I can't make any promises, Leia. I'll come back if I can, but there's a deathmark on my head. I'll be lucky to get within a parsec of Jabba before somebody starts taking potshots at me."

Her reaction was visible: the shortened breath; the crease across her smooth forehead; the clenching of her jaw and the thinning of those full lips. At once it pained him to see her anguish, and it thrilled him to know her feelings were so strong.

"With any luck they'll remember I'm worth more alive."

"And then what?"

Han almost laughed. "Then I'll have to beg the Hutt for mercy. Try to cut a deal. Find a way to make it up to him. Hope he doesn't have me killed outright for being such a pain in his ass all these years."

"And then what?"

This time he did laugh; it was the only way he knew how to deal with the bleakness of his situation. "Sweetheart, he's a crime lord. They aren't the forgiving type."

Leia shook her head. "Everyone has their price, Han. I'm not talking forgiveness—I'm talking bargaining. What if we can get him to see reason?"

_We?_

"I don't know, but I don't have those kinds of credits, anyway."

"Humor me."

Shrugging, he already knew she wouldn't like his answer. "Maybe I'll have to go back to work for him, pay it off that way. If that happens, I don't know when I'd be able to come back. And it would probably mean running Kessel spice again. That ain't exactly a blue milk run. I wouldn't bet on any of those odds."

He could see she was in full problem-solving mode now, her look intense and resolute, and his sense was that it did not bode well—whenever she got that look, it meant he was in for either trouble or more work—and often times both.

"Then I'm coming with you."

Stunned, he could do little more than stare at her.

_Kest, she's as bad as the kid!_

He couldn't believe she would volunteer to do something so crazy just for someone like him. "The hell you are! You aren't going anywhere near the Hutt. I'm dropping you off where you'll be safe and—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Captain." Leia's voice was calm and cool, as if she'd anticipated his reaction from the start. "If you think I'll go back to the Alliance and quietly forget all about this while some gangster has you executed because he's having a bad day, you'd better think again."

"It's too dangerous. You don't know what the Hutt is like, what he'd do to you if he—"

"That doesn't matter. And please, tell me again about how safe I am with the Alliance—I never get tired of hearing that."

Her sarcasm bit deep. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her, but he felt his expression hardening. "This is why I didn't want to get involved in the first place. I was already a marked man the day I met you."

Leia blinked at him as his first clear hit registered. Looking on the verge of either tears or fury, her face reddened in a way that gave him no pleasure, yet her voice remained ice cold, a tone he knew all too well. "But you _did_ get involved. So you can either sit here regretting it, or you can let me help you now."

"It's too dangerous…" Feeling very weary of it all, he scrubbed a hand across his face in the realization that he wasn't going to win this one. Her perseverance was a trait he'd praised as often as cursed, and he knew she'd match him on every point. "Look, I don't want you getting hurt because of something out of my past. What good would that do anybody?"

"It could save your life…and what about Chewie? It could save his, too. That's good enough for me."

Stunned into momentary silence, he tried to absorb the concept of someone so important to so many people being willing to sacrifice everything for a couple of petty smugglers. It made no sense in his world. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." For just an instant it felt like something had clamped around his heart, saying those words aloud, as if he were giving Fate ideas. The very thought…

"How do you think I felt that night on Hoth when you went out after Luke and disappeared? They kept the shield doors open long past regulation, and then came to me for the final decision to close them. I nearly lost you both. Do you have _any_ idea how that felt?"

He heard a crack in her voice, although it might have been his imagination. The implication of her words made him pause. "You did what you had to do. That wasn't your fault, and neither is this. But what happened on Ord Mantell _was_ my fault and that's not acceptable. I need to end this before some bounty hunter comes after you again to get at me, or worse yet, recognizes you. I'll be damned if I deliver you up for your own reward."

"But I can help you! I have a lot of influence and resources, and I'm good with a blaster if it comes to that."

"Leia…"

"You'd already be in his hands if it weren't for me," she pointed out with the same lethal accuracy she used to wield that blaster. Her leveraging of the events of their near-disaster weeks ago was an approach he hadn't predicted.

_Idiot. There was a reason she_ _was a member of the Imperial Senate at eighteen._

But then Leia's expression changed, softening as he watched, and for the first time in their argument her eyes dropped away from his. "We make a good team, Han. You know that."

And just like that, Han was abruptly disarmed in this battle of wills. That was the first time she'd ever spoken of the two of them as being anything other than acquaintances or business associates. This wasn't the royal 'we' she often hid behind whenever referring to her feelings about him; this was personal, just the two of them, an acknowledgement of something more. He didn't know whether to whoop for joy or bang his head against the console at the atrocious timing. The gods really did hate him. "Yeah, I know."

"Then at least think about it. We can solve this problem together. We've solved tougher ones."

She did it again, singling out the two of them from the rest of the universe and emphasizing the fact. He loved the resonance of it, the sound of hope in her simple statement, as if there was nothing they couldn't handle if they did it together. Where had that come from? He didn't know what kind of epiphany she'd experienced the night before, but it left him off guard. "I'll think about it."

Looking up, the hint of a smile wiped away some of her obvious discontent. "Promise me."

It wasn't her persistence that surprised him so much as her method.

_She's so good that I think you just lost the fight and haven't even felt the knockout punch yet._

"I promise I'll think about it."

Her dark eyes narrowed for a second, as if assessing his sincerity, but then she relented, appearing to be satisfied with the truce.

_Don't kid yourself, Buddy. She's more tenacious than a gundark. This isn't over yet._

"How much is left to be done?" Leia shifted topics like a gust of wind shifted direction on Hoth.

"What, the repairs?"

Leia nodded.

Taking a moment to catalogue things in his head, his eyes shifted over to the clear canopy to his left. "Aside from the stuff we can't do anything about until we're docked in an atmosphere, or the hyperdrive, I'd say nothing vital. That's not counting the stuff I've been _meaning_ to do, but just never had the time to get around to."

"Time probably isn't an issue now. I guess this is your chance."

Han liked that she was encouraging his work on the _Falcon_; there were times when Leia was downright insulting about his ship, but at least she seemed to accept his affection for the _Falcon_. That brought his thoughts around to the weeks that still lay ahead, and he realized Leia was right. This was his chance in several ways; to tinker with his first love, but more important, to enjoy the unanticipated gift of sharing Leia's company, without interference, for what might be the last time. Maybe he was too hasty in judging the gods, and this was a big favor after all. Maybe his luck had finally changed.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he murmured. Their eyes met for the longest moment, and he liked to imagine she was thinking the same thing; that perhaps this was their last chance to set things right after all the misfires and wasted opportunities.


	14. The invite

**Chapter 14 — The invite**

After three days of almost non-stop repairs since blasting off from Hoth, Han had declared the remainder of the day as a celebration of sorts. The mood was infectious and Leia found herself caught up in the liberation of a relaxing evening. She had learned early on in their acquaintance that both spacers were decent cooks, and Chewbacca did not disappoint tonight. With the remnants of their meal still spread out on top of the holochess table, the dishes abandoned long ago as the conversation wove from topic to topic, jumping from snippets of news off the datapad to frivolous rumors floating around the Alliance, Leia luxuriated in their company.

Watching in amusement as Han regaled them with stories he swore were true, the topic had segued into the alleged deviances of former prominent Imperial senators, Leia suddenly grimaced. Up until tonight she'd managed to block those sorts of rumors from her mind—she'd had the misfortune of butting heads with some of those same senators during her short tenure. While she knew Han was cleaning up the anecdotes for her benefit, and the subtle chivalry made her glow, the tales were still bawdy enough to leave them all bent over with laughter when not expressing outright disgust.

"I've heard worse about him," she confessed, caught up in the moment as she gave an exaggerated shudder.

Seated beside her on the banquette, Han gave her a double-take before prodding her with an elbow. "I think the princess is holding out on us, Chewie."

"[I think you're right.]"

"Oh no," she protested, snapping back to her senses and holding up a hand. "There is no way I'm repeating it. I'm still trying to wipe it from my memory…"

Chewbacca let out a hoot of encouragement, scenting a juicy story, and Han nudged her again. "Come on, give."

Puckering her lips and gauging her audience, Leia slid out of the curved bench to begin collecting up the dirty plates. "All I'm going to say is that it involved three Gamorrean littermates, Eukamint oil, and a lot of alcohol."

There was a collective gasp, followed by howls of laughter, and knowing when to leave on a high note, Leia grinned as she headed for the galley. It was a very enjoyable evening, but she was wearing down, and while she wasn't much of a cook, there were other ways to contribute before turning in. She paused, however, upon seeing the destruction wrought in the tiny kitchen. With a sigh, she loaded the dirty dishes and cooking tools into the cleanser, then wiped down the cooking unit itself before tackling the countertop. If only she could scrub those unsavory images from earlier out of her head…

"Need some help?"

Surprised, Leia glanced around to find Han standing in the entrance to the tiny galley, his hands gripping the arched frame overhead as he leaned in toward her. She spent a mindless moment to just ogle him.

_Now, Han and some Eukamint oil…?_

The sudden fantasy of a massage gone horribly right—of warm oil and slick skin, of flowing muscle and heavy breathing—made her flush and shake her head, trying with little success to dislodge the vivid image. "It's okay, I've got it."

"Then mind if I watch?"

Guessing at his intent, she stopped to meet his gaze directly this time before giving a shy smile and a shrug before turning back to the clean-up job. "So long as you talk to me."

"I think I can manage that," he said as he stepped in and leaned back against the edge of the countertop. "So, when are you going to grace us with _your_ cooking?"

With a self-deprecating smile, Leia warned him off. "That's probably not such a great idea. I may be good at some things, but cooking isn't one of them."

"Nah, I think you're good at lots of things. Pretty much anything you set your mind to."

That comment made her look up again. It wasn't surprise at the compliment—he'd been paying more of them over the last few months—but the simple power they had to make her chest grow warm from inside, like the rush she'd felt from that glitterstim she'd tried while back at the university—it was just as heady, too. "Thank you…but be careful what you wish for. I can make a mean pot of hot water, but that's about the extent of my skills. I'd hate to waste any food in some experiment gone awry."

Solo chuckled. "You're in safe hands. I won't let anything bad happen."

Returning items to their proper storage spots, she moved closer and he took advantage of her nearness to reach out a hand and tuck back the strands of hair that had come loose from her single braid. His fingertips grazed along her skin, lingering longer than necessary behind her ear before drifting down the back of her exposed neck and under the loose collar of her borrowed shirt. Despite her efforts, Leia slowed to a stop, eyes closing of their own accord as her entire awareness shrank to the sensations he caused. It wasn't until her head fell back that she caught herself with a little gasp and her eyes opened to meet his.

"I could teach you…If you're willing to learn."

Dazed, Leia could only stare at him, not even sure what they were talking about anymore. The last time he'd touched her this way, she'd ended up sprawled out on top of him on a hotel sofa. Tonight there seemed the distinct possibility she would end up doing much more than that. Not knowing what to say, she felt like she was underwater, everything moving in slow motion.

_How does this man cancel out years of training and discipline with just a touch, a look? They should have entire deportment classes devoted to resisting seductive scoundrels._

"Just let me know." His hand slid down under her arm, until his fingers caught hers, and her arm seemed to rise all by itself as he brought her hand up to his lips.

Leia almost blurted out that she was ready for anything he wanted to teach her, anything at all, so long as he started right now. But before she could work up the nerve, or a more sane thought, he started backing out of the narrow galley, tugging her along behind him. Not knowing where he was leading, she nevertheless followed without protest.

"Come on, that's enough cleaning for tonight," he coaxed with a smile. "Party's not over. Chewie wants to tell you about the time we had to leave Iphigin in a hurry because he sat on their ambassador."

Feeling like she was emerging from a trance, Leia blinked back to reality. "What? He _sat_ on…?"

Her hand still in his, he led her across the main hold. "Hey, would I make that up?"

Squeezing his hand back, she relented. "Okay, one more story."


	15. The wait

**Chapter 15 — The wait**

Despite her earlier statement, Leia stayed for more than one story. At some point, during a fit of laughter, she slid down sideways against the back of the banquette to butt up against Han. Forever the opportunist, he moved fast enough to wrap a welcoming arm around her shoulders before she could straighten back up, and she seemed content to remain there as the conversation roamed, even scooting over a little closer to be more comfortable as the hour grew late.

But it was inevitable that Leia would extract herself from his side, and as she wished them a good night and headed for the corridor, Han watched her leave, missing her warmth and staring long after she'd disappeared around the bend.

_You've made some damned foolish blunders with this woman in the past, but tonight I think you just made up for a few of them._

When they'd been back in the galley, as he'd traced the graceful lines of her neck, he'd seen her letting go for him—just as she had for a few brief moments back in that hotel room—and it was all he could do to keep from pushing his advantage before her brain reengaged. But he'd learned from his mistake on Ord Mantell, and he was determined not to blow what might be his last chance by pushing her past her comfort level. She _was_ opening up to him, at her own pace, and he would have to be happy with that. Rather than push, he would encourage; rather than demand, he would tempt, just as he'd done back in the galley. So he'd been a bit slow on the uptake, but he realized now that leaving her wanting more was the key, and his invitation had been subtle but clear. Whether or not their relationship continued to evolve would be her decision; in this game he'd just played his hand, and now it was a matter of waiting to see if she called, upped the ante, or folded.

Leia Organa was possibly the most unique woman he'd ever met, but she was still a woman and he was pretty sure he recognized that universal look of desire in her eyes. Maybe she was teetering on that edge of making a choice, after all.

"[She looked happy tonight,]" Chewbacca interrupted, drawing Han back to the present.

"Yeah, she really did." The fact that such a thing was so noteworthy bothered Han more than he expected. He looked across the checkered tabletop at his friend, a bit surprised by the observation; Chewie really did seem to have a soft spot for their passenger. The few women in the past that Han had bothered to introduce to Chewie had at best regarded him as nothing more than a talented pet, and at worst cowered in fear of his going berserk and mauling them. But Leia had never treated the Wookiee as anything other than an equal; that was a solid positive in her favor as far as they were concerned. Of course, calling his partner a walking carpet hadn't exactly been a compliment, but the situation had been a bit extreme, and it had demonstrated the sort of guts that clearly won her their respect.

_So much for that fearsome Wookiee façade, Pal_.

Over the years Leia had also displayed a quirky sense humor during the rare times she relaxed with them, and he was relieved to find she had no trouble fitting in now. It promised an enjoyable journey, whatever her decision regarding their relationship, and he could even imagine, for a brief crazy moment, what it would be like having her around on a permanent basis.

_As what? Respected leader by day and roving navigator by night? Deckhand with portfolio? You're space-happy. She's got bigger dreams than bumming around on a dinged-up merchant freighter with you._

"[She knows that we still plan to leave, doesn't she?]"

Han continued to sober up with the reminder. "We talked. She's not happy about that."

Chewie gave a mirthless hoot. "[Then it's unanimous.]"

"She wants to come along."

The tall Wookiee straightened in outrage, his howl echoing through the hold and down the corridors. "[Absolutely not! You must tell her no.]"

"Hey, keep it down! I did, but do you think that made any difference? We've agreed to disagree for now, but you know her. Stubborn."

"[I think you two cancel each other out.]"

That observation made Han scowl. "Whatever that's supposed to mean…Which reminds me. You should know that she moved into the bunkroom last night."

Chewie's massive head tipped to the side in curiosity. "[I see. I assume you know what you're doing.]"

Han wasn't sure whether to be insulted or just annoyed. "She moved into the spare bunk while I was asleep. I think she's just lonely. Anyway, I'm not pushing her into anything. If it turns into more, that's up to her."

"[But you've got a death mark.]"

"What, you think I forgot that? For what it's worth, the Empire's got a sweet little bounty out on her head, too, remember?"

"[I remember.]" Seeming to deliberate for a moment, Chewbacca gave up with a big shrug. "[You're right, it is her decision. As long as she understands the situation…She is very brave for one so small. I'm reminded of my wife.]"

His expression softening at his friend's show of sentiment, Han had to agree with the assessment: bold, spirited, intelligent, determined, and beautiful.

_Why the hell couldn't we have met back when things were less complicated? _

Then again, it was unlikely she would have paid him any attention back then—a tramp freighter pilot with a questionable background and little else, while she had the universe at her feet. Even now he sometimes wondered if he was nothing more than a curiosity to her—that he'd struck closer to the mark than he realized when he'd teased that there weren't enough scoundrels to liven up her life. Would she grow tired of him once the novelty wore off? Once her peers learned she was consorting with a Corellian smuggler? It was a doubt that plagued him. With his only possession and dubious claim to fame a temperamental ship, he had no land, little money, and no reputation worth mentioning in politer circles of society. While he didn't think the princess was the type to go slumming like some socialites he'd known while back in the Academy, he couldn't rule out the possibility, and he hated that suspicion. He wanted to believe her interest was genuine, but what might that cost her reputation and career in the end?

_No, there would've always been complications. There would've always been sacrifices, for both of us. _

Until the day they'd met and she'd accused him of not caring about anything or anybody, he'd never given a damn about what others thought of him, either. For some reason that indictment had stung coming from her, and somehow she had known that it would. Had she read him that easily, even amidst the chaos on the _Death Star_?

_Damn it, she's good. Why does that keep surprising you?_

Long overdue, Han was gaining a new appreciation of what it must be like for Chewie to be separated from his wife and family for such long stretches of time. They were in this trouble together because of his mistakes and indecision and arrogance; the least he could do was make sure Chewie got to see the ones he loved one more time before they faced Jabba. "Hey, once we get the hyperdrive fixed, how about we swing by Kashyyyk before heading to Tatooine?"

Fangs bared in the equivalent of a broad smile, Chewie nodded. "[I'd like that, it's been too long…Do you think the princess will want to come along? She's never met my family.]"

_And he accuses _me_ of being a big sap? _

"Yeah. She'll probably insist on it if I can't talk her out of her plan by then."

"[Malla can make her see reason. She is good at that…although she never had much luck with me.]"

Han laughed. "It's worth a shot, Pal. Hey, I'm thinking of overhauling the forward freight elevator motor tomorrow—I'm tired of playing nursemaid every time we use it."

"[I agree. That's a good project.]"

Scrubbing his face, feeling the full-day's stubble coming in like a cash crop, he yawned and began pulling himself around the table to the edge, then stood. "Thought so. I think I'll turn in. 'night, Chewie."

Walking up into the corridor, he paid a call to the cockpit for one last check, but everything was in order. Since what he wished for and what he got when it came to Leia were often at opposite ends of the galaxy, he wasn't sure what to expect as he headed for his cabin.

The small room was still fully lit but empty when Han arrived. The fresher was still occupied, and he realized with a grin that she was probably showering yet again. Ever since their stint in the fetid jungles of the Serricci base over a year ago, she'd begun using every strained excuse possible to take advantage of his real water shower, something he'd been more than happy to encourage. More than one of his fantasies had revolved around just those scenarios.

An instant later the door opened and Leia emerged, but she stopped in surprise upon finding him standing there. Her cheeks redden like a sunset on Corellia, and one of her hands instinctively dropped to tug down the bottom hem of the long white shirt she'd borrowed; it hung to just above her knees, revealing slender naked legs that demanded his attention. Feeling the stirrings of arousal upon remembering how the backs of those thighs had felt beneath his fingertips weeks ago, he dragged his gaze back up. He's seen her decked out in royal finery during the media circus of the award ceremony on Yavin IV, and he'd seen her dressed to kill that landmark night on Ord Mantell, and yet he'd never seen her sexier than she looked right now, with her brunette hair down and damp, her skin still glowing from the hot shower, wearing what he imagined to be nothing but his shirt. He had to swallow to find his voice. "Done in there?"

"Yes."

Still trying to curb his usual instincts, Han resisted the urge to tell her on how tempting she was at that moment; the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. From the way she'd froze in the entrance to the fresher, radiating nervousness, he wondered if maybe she'd hoped to be in bed and already asleep by the time he showed up.

"Right," he said.

When she still didn't move, his smile grew. Whatever was going through her head at that moment, it was enough to disengage her awareness of the situation, and that wasn't like her. Deciding to help out, he gestured past her shoulder. "Can I go in?"

Leia's expression turned to one of confusion for a second before she realized she was blocking his way. "Oh! Sorry." Flustered, she moved to stand in the center of the small cabin so he could pass.

"Find everything you need?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good." The temptation to kiss her right then was strong, if for no other reason than to defuse her awkwardness, but giving her a random kiss while in the cockpit or lounge was very different from doing it here, with her half-dressed and ready for bed. His vow had been to let her choose the moment, and it took every shred of will-power to stick to that promise, even if it meant nothing more happened between them. Instead, he settled for a smile before stepping into the fresher and closing the door.


	16. The signal

**Chapter 16 — The signal**

Left standing alone in the center of the crew's quarters, Leia debated what to do. The part of her responsible for logic and common sense insisted she get into her bunk and go to sleep, but all the other parts demanded something wildly different.

It was a good day, the best in a long, long time. Even her disagreement with Han about the near future, though it ended on an unresolved note, had not devolved into a shouting match; that alone was a major breakthrough. Dinner was near perfect, the only thing arguably missing being Luke…but had he been there, she suspected she and Han would not have been so open about their rediscovered détente.

_And we _were_ rather obvious tonight, weren't we?_

The shared smiles, the casual embraces, and that disorienting interlude in the galley; those were things they might have gone out of their way to hide from Luke, not wanting to flaunt their late-blossoming romance in his face. It seemed to her that Luke had long ago accepted the fact she preferred to keep his friendship platonic, so maybe he would be okay about this, too.

_He'll have to be. I think we're past the stage of pretending this isn't happening._

Although the air was cool, as were the deck plates beneath her bare feet, the hot shower had warmed her enough to compensate. Her damp hair hung heavy down her back; she reached up to lift it way and drap it over one shoulder, then glanced down at herself. His shirt was far less revealing than that slinky black number she'd worn back on Ord Mantell, but it still seemed to have the same effect on Han, and she'd half expected him to kiss her, or at the very least say something suggestive, but he'd done neither.

_He's waiting for a signal, waiting for you to make the move._

All this time she'd criticized him for being unable to commit…and yet here she struggled to do the same thing now.

_Is that irony or does that just make me a hypocrite? It's time to make a choice, too._

Leia mustered her resolve and stepped forward to stand in front of Han's double-wide bunk, reached to draw back the blanket and top sheet, and then sat on the edge. Heartbeat fluttering, she drew a deep breath and worked at calming her nerves.

_What's there to be afraid of? You're already in love, so it's not as if you can avoid that particular heartache. Would it be so bad to let this man love you back?_

She knew that there might be little future for them together, but after the string of horrors that seemed to comprise most of her adult life, wasn't she overdue for a positive experience, no matter how short? Something completely her choice? Something she'd been denying herself for too long? Rather than reject this last opportunity, she could embrace it as her own; she could embrace him and accept him on those terms. The situation and setting weren't perfect, but between bounties and war, was it realistic to think there might be a perfect time? She had everything to lose and nothing to gain by waiting any longer.

Her continued virginity had been a matter of choice, due more to a lack of suitable opportunities than any prudishness. In the rarefied world she'd come from, sex involved ramifications far beyond emotional entanglements and pregnancy—things like dirty politics, embarrassing media scandals, family alliances, and power-plays had to be considered. Although raised to be on her guard and rethink any impulse, that did not mean she was uninformed. She understood the mechanics of sex, had a rough idea of what to expect, and had even seen a pornographic holo-vid while at the university—it hadn't been the least bit romantic, but it had eliminated some of the mystery. Aside from a little personal gratification, however, she'd never done more than flirt and kiss with the occasional suitor. How could she hope to please a man who'd traveled from one end of the universe to another, and no doubt dabbled extensively along the way? Just how many women had shared this bunk with him, and was it foolish to think she would be the last? It was a rare event when she doubted her own abilities, but tonight seemed full of exceptions.

The fresher door opened and Han stepped out. His shirt must have gone into the autovalet unit because he was bare-chested now, and for the first time Leia felt no compulsion to look away out of embarrassment, but let her eyes roam over his lean form, appreciating the lines of his fine body. Defined but not overly developed, his muscles were earned through honest—well, not-so-honest—work, just the right combination of muscle and hair and broadness of chest before tapering down to narrow hips. Was she biased in thinking he appeared the perfect specimen of masculinity?

In the process of undoing his belt, Han faltered mid-stride when he looked up and spotted her sitting on his bunk. Belt forgotten, he stared.

Leia would have wagered her blush was bright enough to glow in the dark, and although she did not look away, she had no clue what to say, either—this was yet another topic never covered in deportment lessons. Instead, she tried a shy smile.

That seemed to snap Solo out of his shock. "That's my bunk," he stated for the record, as if double-checking to make sure she hadn't made a mistake.

"I know." Leia thanked whatever deities were assisting tonight for the fact that her voice didn't abandon her.

Han nodded then, rewarding her bold initiative with a heart-stopping lop-sided grin that never failed to make her wibble a little. Moving forward, he sat down beside her, close enough that their arms and legs brushed, and bent over to begin pulling at one of his boots.

She wasn't sure what she had expected—him pouncing on her or dancing a little jig, perhaps?—but sitting and watching while he struggled with his footwear had never been part of the fantasy. Passivity was not her strong suit. Getting to her feet, she moved in front of him, then dropped down to one knee and reached for his foot.

As he leaned back to prop himself up on his elbows, he met her gaze while she lifted up his boot, grasped hold of the heel, and tugged it off. It was without a doubt the most sensual and deliberate thing she'd ever done, and thus she was unprepared for what she found; an unregal snort of laughter escaped.

Han's expression morphed into puzzlement. "What's so funny?"

"Nice sock," she quipped. It was bright red, like the warning beacon on an airlock, and probably the last thing she anticipated.

"They're lucky," he said as he raised his other foot out. She obliged, catching the heel and pulling.

"You have lucky socks?"

"They're working, aren't they?"

Leia had to concede that point; she wouldn't have played the odds on this night happening. Nevertheless, the socks would have to go before her mood was completely destroyed. Yanking them both off and flinging them behind her without a second glance, she got back to her feet, but then hesitated again, not sure of what to do next.

Still reclined on his elbows, Han seemed happy to let her look as long as she wanted, not the least bit self-conscious. His tanned skin was a wonderful contrast with the white of the turned-back sheet, and there was a thin band of paler skin along his waistline where the tan ended. There was also a fascinating definition of muscle right at the front of his hips, an angled line that disappeared below the beltline but lead her gaze toward the obvious evidence of his anticipation. He hadn't moved.

_This is ridiculous. I gave the signal! We might not get anywhere if he leaves this all up to me._

"You're sure about this?"

Although he'd practically read her mind, his question was a surprise. But it demonstrated his understanding of the risks and ramifications of her timing, as well as the reasons she hesitated now, and she was grateful that. His expression was an open mixture of concern, boyish anticipation, and poorly hidden lust, and the fact that he asked, as though worried she might change her mind at the last second or worse yet regret the decision later, was enough to bolster her courage. If he cared so much that he was still willing to let her walk away at this critical juncture, then she was making the right decision.

She had to lick suddenly dry lips. "Yes. Ninety-seven percent sure."

The Corellian's smile broadened in relief. "Hey, I like those numbers. Come here."

Sitting up, Han held out a hand and she took it, allowing him to draw her close until she stood between his knees. That curious feeling was returning, as if the universe had shifted into a lower gear and slowed down as her senses heightened and focused on what he was doing, how he made her feel. He kissed the back of her hand and then turned it over, opening it to kiss her palm.

"Anything I can do to make it ninety-eight?"

"I think you just did." She let her fingers curl over his cheek, feeling the dark stubble along his jaw. Spellbound by the texture, she ran a thumb along the ridge of the scar on his chin, something she'd always wanted to do. "Tell me how you got this."

His hands rose to touch her, resting on her hips. "The scar? Cantina brawl with some off-duty stormtroopers when I was at the Academy. But you should've seen the other guy."

"Hmmm." She smiled and moved her hand toward the back of his head, watching her fingers disappear into his thick hair, adoring where the longer locks in back curled behind his ear. Then her eyes locked on his hazel ones, so infused with molten gold, and she opened her mouth to say something, but the words disintegrated in a sigh as his hands began gliding up her sides, down her back, then up again. There was a solid _thump_ in her pelvic region as a new rush of warmth spread through her body. Even through the fabric of his borrowed shirt, she could feel the heat from those talented hands making her dizzy as his thumbs rode over her stomach, then up to graze against already hardened nipples. For a moment she lost the ability to breathe as a jolt of pleasure shot through her body. She swayed toward him as his hands lingered there, thumbs continuing to trace the outlines, before sliding down once more. This time they dropped past her hips, down until they reached bare skin beneath the hem of the long shirt and curved around the contours of her thighs, and she gasped as goose bumps arose everywhere. Her hands dropped to his shoulders to keep from losing her balance.

"Was that ninety-nine?" There was some of the old teasing in his deep voice, the familiar Han who so often drove her to distraction, but there was something else in his tone that told her it was okay to open up and trust him in this, their latest adventure.

Her lingering nervousness eroded under the growing flood of pleasure. The last time he'd touched her like this, she'd blamed half a bottle of precious Alderaani wine for her loss of control; this time she was sober as a Jedi knight, intoxicated only by his touch, and she wanted all of it—the joy, the intimacy, the chance to do something for herself on her own terms.

_I want him and everything that entails. I want to _be_ his._

Han's eyes didn't leave her face, intent on her reactions as his hands slid upward again, this time inside the loose shirt to explore underneath. His large hands, calloused from a career of working with tools and freight, caused a wonderful friction as they roamed over hidden curves and valleys, igniting fires along the way. She knew the strength of those hands, had watched them countless times over the years, and yet was amazed by how gentle they felt now. Just like when he flew the _Falcon_, always seeming to coax a little more out of his ship, his hands now moved with a confidence that left her with the same keenness to respond.

"You feel so good, Leia. Let me see you."

His voice, his request, the way he said her name, made her pulse throb. With strangely heavy limbs she pulled the shirt up over her head, and felt his hands claim the revealed territory even before she could toss the garment onto the accompanying bunk. Naked now, she'd never felt so vulnerable, and yet seeing the look of rapture that overtook his handsome face, she'd never felt quite so empowered.

"You're beautiful," he breathed in a reverent tone as his hands followed his eyes, fanning those flames already lit, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to the flat, trembling plane above her stomach. "Leia." Using her name like a caress, he tasted her newly exposed flesh, reassuring and exciting at the same time, making her shiver.

Cradling his head in her hands, fingers buried in his hair again, she wanted to watch him, but her eyes closed of their own accord as a quake rumbled through her body when his mouth moved upward. Strong hands steadied her, keeping her from swaying off balance as her head fell back. She moaned as those sensuous lips reached a breast, taking in a nipple for the first time. Teasing her, his tongue swirled around, flicking over the tip; pleasure raced from there to coalesce in all the strategic spots, leaving her light-headed.

He'd always driven her a bit crazy in the past, but what Han was doing now gave crazy a whole new definition.

When he suddenly stopped held her far enough away so that he could stand, she took advantage of the new vantage point to touch the rest of him, her hands moving across his bare chest, for the first time able to do so without awkwardness or fear of what he might say. The combination of skin and muscle, wonderfully masculine, left her wanting to press all of her skin against his and slide her entire body along his solid frame, and she found herself wishing he would hurry up so she could indulge in that urge.

But Han took his time as one of his hands rose up in her hair, holding her still as he bent to finally kiss her, and any last doubts melted away as he conveyed the passion he'd held back for so long. All the other kisses they'd shared seemed only a prelude to this as his mouth pressed hard against hers, hungry, his tongue invading to stroke along hers in erotic exploration, a demonstration of things to come. His stubble was rough against her chin as he gathered her up against his body, almost lifting her off her feet as he ground against her. He'd never handled her like this before, never demonstrated his strength and desire to possess her, to lay claim to his territory, as if branding her as his own with a searing kiss.

Without easing off, his other hand slipped between them and down her belly to curve over her mound and explore the now-wet folds below; it was a firm but gentle touch, careful yet insistent, and she gasped against his mouth, her fingers digging into his back as a new surge of electricity coursed through her, lighting up every nerve ending.

The reality of Han Solo—a man with whom she'd sparred for so long—touching her this way, knowing her in the most intimate way imaginable, and causing her to lose control like this, made her tremble with a riot of emotions.

"It's okay, Leia." His rumbling voice sounded just as breathless as his lips grazed across her jaw. "I've got you."

Something had to be short-circuiting in her thinking processes because far from blank, her mind was inundated with a rush of jumbled thoughts: he had her; he was going to have her; he wanted her; she didn't know for sure what she wanted anymore other than more of what he was doing. "Please, don't stop."

His knowing chuckle teased her, his breath hot against her cheek. "Don't worry, we're just starting."

His hand came up to catch one of hers and brought it down between them to press her palm against the front of his trousers, a not-so-subtle hint that it was okay for her to explore lower as well. Emboldened and enthralled, she ran her fingers along the hidden length of hardness trapped there, tracing the outline, elated and reassured to feel him respond in much the same way she had a moment ago. As she rubbed harder and was rewarded with a shuddering groan, she tasted the salty tang of his skin and breathed in his scent that mingled now with her own arousal, liking the tickle of coarse chest hair against her nose. Acting on an impulse, she kissed one of his nipples, running her tongue around the tiny pebble like she'd felt him do, flicking across the tip.

Han jerked as if he'd stuck a finger in a live circuit fuse, letting out a surprised grunt. "That's it," he announced, as if reaching some abrupt decision. Grabbing her hips, he turned them both around and guided her backward until she bumped against the edge of his bed. "In my bunk. Now."

More than happy to let him take over now that she was committed to this course of action, Leia sank down onto the recessed bed and scooted back to make room for him, then gathered her hair up to toss it over one shoulder out of the way as she reclined against the bank of pillows lining the wall.

"Gods, I've waited so long to say that," Han muttered as he hurried to finish undoing his belt and then the closure of his now-tight trousers before pushing them down to reveal a pair of black boxer-briefs that tented out with the hard evidence of his arousal.

Admiring the ripple and flex of exposed muscles as he stripped, Leia couldn't help herself. "If only I'd known you wore those socks…"

Kicking his pants off to the side, he spared a moment afterward to gaze at her in mild disbelief, hands on his narrow hips. "I'll make you forget about those damned socks. I'll make you forget about everything for a while."

Leia's breath caught short at his words as she tried to imagine how blissful that could be; to lose all her worries and dark memories, to forget who she was for even one moment, sounded just this side of paradise. If he could do that for her…?

Maybe he sensed that desperate wish, because his expression grew more serious as he removed his shorts in one last hasty motion, then straightened up and moved to kneel on the bunk beside her. She'd never seen him naked and certainly not in a state of arousal; he was a little intimidating and quite fascinating, and she didn't know where to look, yet was too spellbound to look away.

"Relax, Leia. It's just you and me in here." Although his look was intense and hungry, there was a tenderness about him that gave her another rush of affection. His hand touched one of her ankles before running up to her thigh, reviving the banked heat. Then he gave a gentle tug downward, indicating she should slide lower on the bunk, and she complied, willing to trust her instincts and his intentions. As she came to rest with just her head on a pillow, his hands went to the mattress at either side so he could lean crossways over her. "Just us. Trust me and I'll show you how to fly."

His words were like magic, the promise of yet another rescue the perfect salve to her soul. Gazing up at him from this new position, she couldn't remember ever seeing anyone more handsome, more potent. His sheer presence, hovering over her, made her heart trip and then race to catch up. She tipped her head back a little, chin rising, and it was all the invitation he needed as he bent at the elbows to descend on her mouth, stealing her breath once more. Holding his head and rolling toward him to keep from breaking apart as he moved to lie alongside her, she surrendered to that urgent need to press against him. His long body felt magnificent and hot, and it was pure instinct that made her drag a leg up along his thigh.

Leia couldn't tell which part of what he was doing was threatening to send her into overdrive, but when his hand once again moved down between her legs to resume a tender investigation, she no longer cared. Still propped up on one elbow, it had only taken a few moments for him to find just the right combination of pressure and speed, anticipating her need, and she grew wanton, shifting to grant him better access, throwing her leg over his hip, absolutely needing to pull him closer. As his erection pressed hard against her sensitive skin, she was filled with a sudden desperation to blend with him; to not only blur the lines but erase them completely.

Han's mouth moved below the line of her jaw, laying down a string of kisses along her throat as she arched her neck back to expose more. "Relax. Just let me touch you," he whispered beneath her ear, his provocative appeal sending another shiver throughout her body.

Although feeling wild now, she obeyed by easing her grip and lying back, closing her eyes once more as he brought her body to life. Then she let out a little gasp, tensing as he introduced a finger into her, shivering as he ran his tongue along the outer shell of her ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. And her body responded, moving in sync with his stroke as her mind began to disconnect. It felt as if the atmospheric controls of the room had spiked into the tropical range as a fine sheen of sweat broke out all over.

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" His hot breath on her ear was making all the hairs on that side of her body stand at attention.

"Sometimes…" she whispered, surprised by the question and how her own admission generated a new spike of pleasure.

That must have been the right answer because he moaned into her hair. "Tell me what you thought about…"

The fact that he wanted to know her innermost desires felt far more personal than anything else he'd done yet, and she opened her eyes, needing to see his face, to see his reaction. "I always wished it was you."

Leia hadn't thought his expression could smolder with more intensity, but he proved her wrong as he paused to meet her eyes, as if her words had struck a chord within him. "I've never wanted anybody as much as I've wanted you, Leia. _Never_. I can't stop thinking about you."

His confession, and how it matched her own, was a pleasure she hadn't anticipated. As he kissed her again, she moaned along, unable to contain it any longer as her body surged up against his hand, needing more. Her hand raced down his arm to encourage and guide his caress, knowing where this was leading now, feeling her body beginning to tense up and tremble with built-up energy. That he was fulfilling one of her fantasies brought her closer to the edge far faster than she expected, and ready to let go for him, her free hand flew up to cup a breast, toying with the nipple in an effort to tip the scale. So close…

"That's it, Sweetheart. Fly for me."

As Han's mouth moved down her neck to her chest and her hand gave way to his sensuous lips, his tongue swirled around in perfect synchronicity with his hand before sucking hard just as his fingers changed their stroke inside her, pressing upward. And then she was soaring, as if he'd flipped some hyperdrive switch, and her body lit up with pleasure, the explosive flash sweeping away everything for a blissful eternity as her body rocked.

Never quite stopping his gentle caress, he eased her back with a series of casual kisses, but didn't let her come all the way back down. "That's my girl."

Flushed and dazed, she opened her eyes to find his once more.

_My girl?_

His words sounded so wonderful. She _felt_ so wonderful. "That was—" An aftershock from what he was doing made her gasp and clutch at him, her body still charged with potential, the neurons firing at random from his touch. Giving up on words, she let out a laugh of pure joy.

He matched that with his best languid smile. "Better than you imagined?"

"_So_ much better."

His gift was another series of kisses. "I aim to please…I could watch you do that all night…but I don't think I can wait much longer."

Realizing too late that she'd neglected his own pleasure, she reached out to pull him closer for a deeper kiss before running her free hand down his lean body, rediscovering the boldness that was her nature. Captivated by what she found, she broke away to watch her fingers explore the remarkable combination of velvet skin and rigid flesh, and she could see and hear his immediate response.

_It's a safe bet he likes that. If I can make him feel the way he just made me feel…_

As her fingers wrapped around him to give a gentle stroke, his groan deepened and she could feel his pulse throb in tune with hers, but before she could repeat the motion, Han surprised her by grabbing her hand and stopping her. Instead, he brought it up to kiss her palm and then run his lips down her forearm.

"Not this time, not unless you want this trip to end right now. It's been too long for me." As if to emphasize his own urgency, he shifted his grip on her wrist and guided it down to the bunk at her far side, pinning it there as he rolled her flat onto her back and positioned himself between her legs.

A whole new wave of excitement and apprehension sped through her as his eyes found hers. He changed his grasp to lace their fingers together, and although she'd never told him and he'd never asked, it was obvious he recognized her hesitancy for what it was. Allowing some of his weight to rest on her, he started another deep kiss, at first tender and then with building hunger while his free hand slid down between them, finding her center again to restore the flames before guiding himself inside with one steady move. The sudden mixture of pleasure and pain and fullness as her body gave way made her jerk and she let out a little cry in spite of herself.

"Leia…Did I hurt you?" he choked out as he trembled above her. His head dropped next to hers, the rough stubble of his faint beard rasping against her shoulder, and he didn't move for a long moment, as if allowing her the time to adjust before his hips shifted and stopping again.

It was almost sensory overload, so many things at once as the initial shock and pain faded, leaving behind the most amazing and unanticipated pleasure. There weren't adequate words. "No, I'm okay. It's… Oh…"

As he rose up onto his straightened arms and began a slow movement of his hips, the exquisite sensation of him moving within her, filling her, stole away her ability to speak. Eyes closed, all her awareness focused where they were joined, his heat and hardness and the intense sensation of fluid friction as he began a slow series of strokes in and out unlike anything she'd felt before, the intense sharing more than she'd ever imagined. He overwhelmed and completed her, fulfilling that desperate and inexplicable need that had haunted her since the first day they'd met; here was the answer to that powerful yearning whenever she'd thought of him, all so obvious now. On instinct, her legs locked around his lean hips, forcing him deeper.

Han stopped abruptly, trembling above her.

Confused and alarmed, she looked up at him, wondering if she'd done something wrong. "What…?"

"I won't last long. Not this time."

There was sincere regret in his shaky voice, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in the midst of his most powerful moment, and caught up by this, she pressed a hand to his cheek and then pulled him down for another kiss. "It'd okay. Don't stop."

"Leia…" He began again, nearly sliding all the way out before thrusting back, forcing a moan from both of them. Then his movements fell into a driving rhythm and she tried her best to match him, to learn the steps in this new dance he was leading. Coated now with his own sweat, radiating heat, he pressed her into the mattress as his pace increased. Her own arousal began building again, deep within like a static charge, the potential making her skin tingle and the fine hairs stand on end as he surrendered to his own need, but before it could explode again, Han's rhythm broke, becoming erratic. Realizing he'd climaxed as he shuddered to a stop, she ran her hands down his back, pleased to know she must have done something right.

Spent, he collapsed on top of her, and while he was heavy, she didn't mind it so much—at least she could still breathe for the most part. Then his head lifted and he gave her a most satisfied grin.

_Oh, he could patent that smile and I'd buy every one of them._

Han's mouth dropped open and he looked on the verge of saying something, but then seemed to hesitate and instead pressed his forehead against hers. It was such a simple gesture, as if trying to sync their minds as their bodies had been moments before. She closed her eyes in harmony, feeling as though she'd just been given a reprieve from a prison sentence of emotional denial. Had she really almost convinced herself that she didn't want or need this intimacy in her life?

_I must have been delusional._

"It'll be so much better next time…" Han murmured while resuming a gentle series of kisses. "I promise."

As she ran her hands across his shoulders, down his flanks, memorizing every inch, she breathed, "Who's complaining?"

_Maybe this is what a Spice habit is like. I can't stop touching him and I don't want to._

His diminishing presence within her was such a novel feeling that she was left with a sense of emptiness and longing when he shifted his weight off her and slipped out. As she watched Han reach around behind them to grab a pillow before sprawling out on his back beside her, she was already experiencing a need to reconnect and take him back in, to be one with him. There was a kaleidoscope of emotions mixed in with the fading glow of pleasure and contentment—she was tired and yet stirred all at the same time, a very curious combination.

Beginning to roll toward him, the mood was stalled when she felt a tug at her scalp and realized he'd collapsed on her hair. "Hey, Flyboy." With a nudge to his arm, he obliged by sitting up until she cleared the mattress and tossed her hair back over her pillow. Now free to move about, she shifted around and pressed against his long body once more, only to discover he felt a little clammy now as he cooled down. Still trying to reconcile all these new discoveries with what she'd always imagined lovemaking to be, Leia nearly laughed again. "Next time? You're awfully sure that there'll be a next time…"

Han made a little choked sound as he craned his neck around to look at her, eyebrow cocked as if he was still in possession of some universal secret. "Care to make a little wager, Your Worship?"

"No, and stop calling me that. So when _is_ the next time?"

That maddening smile was back at full wattage. "Patience. It's been a long day and I'm not exactly sixteen anymore."

"It figures I had to fall for an older man."

"Hey, watch that 'older' stuff!" With outrage spent, he relaxed again and closed his eyes. "Anything I _might_ have lost to age I've gained in finesse."

"It took you long enough to use it."

"Was saving it up for a special occasion."

"Hmmmm. You'll let me know when there's another special occasion, right?"

"You'll be the first."

Unable to help herself, Leia stretched an arm across his chest and pulled a knee up along his leg, obeying that still-lingering urge to touch as much skin as she could.

_He really is gorgeous. If only you hadn't been so stubborn_…

"Fall, huh?" Han pondered aloud.

"Maybe. A little. The verdict's not in yet."

At first she'd supposed he was teasing and she'd responded in kind, but now something made her stop and reconsider. While she was sure of her feelings, and knew he did care about her—he'd said as much and demonstrated it on an almost daily basis—she also knew that sex did not necessarily equate love, and there was still a possibility he was playing her, opportunist that he was, and intended to fly off without looking back. She didn't believe he would do that to her, not after everything they'd been through together, but she supposed that were this to turn out a colossal mistake, at least he would be gone soon and no one need know… The thought was unwelcome, yet the calculating politician in her still logged it away.

Han let out a big sigh. "I guess I can live with that."

Something in his response left her dissatisfied with having settled for the status quo. Just how close had she come to chasing him off? She certainly hadn't given him much incentive to stick around, so determined had she been to believe the worst about him. How many other men would have written her off as frigid? His persistence despite everything left her humble. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Han sat up, his expression a sudden mix of confusion and concern as he looked down at her, as if baffled by her incongruous confession. Reaching out, he fingered a lock of her hair, tugged it a little, and then tucked it back behind her ear as the lopsided smile returned. "Never gonna happen, Sweetheart. Not on my watch. You're worth it."

Even though she suspected he'd misunderstood her meaning, her breath caught and for an instant she felt the threat of tears.

_You are _not_ going to cry in front of him again!_

Sitting up as well, she groped for the covers to interrupt the emotional pattern before it snowballed into something embarrassing. Assisting in pulling the sheet up past their waists, he joined her in lying back.

"Ah, kest!"

Up on an elbow again in an instant, she eyed him in cautious expectation. He looked downright uncomfortable. "What?"

"Uh, are you by chance on any sort of birth control?"

Leia shook her head in wonder. "_Now_ you think of that?"

"Well…you sort of took me by surprise."

To be fair, he had a point, so she cut him some slack. "Don't worry. I started contraceptive hypospray shots right after joining the forces on Yavin."

One of his thick eyebrows rose again. "Were you expecting to see a lot of action, Your Highness?"

_That's what I get for going easy on him._

"No, Laserbrain. I had enough to deal with and didn't need the inconvenience of my cycle on top of it."

Han made a little "Oh" face before nodding and closing his eyes. "That's a relief. My shot's overdue. Wasn't expecting this little detour."

"No…" Leia breathed, his statement stirring up a whole new set of questions to ponder: Did he really not expect to survive his encounter with Jabba? What if she hadn't been so prepared? No prevention method was infallible—what if she became pregnant anyway?

Years ago, despite her political goals, she'd entertained dreams of someday finding a husband, starting a family of their own, being normal—or as normal as being a member of royalty would allow. But war and Alderaan's destruction and her new pessimism had shoved those ideas so far back in her mind that she'd forgotten they existed. Yet here was a man who'd not only awakened her womanhood, but he tempted those nest-building thoughts back out into the light. Still, she couldn't decide which was harder to imagine right now—Han as a father or herself as a mother.

_Don't even go there, Leia. The last thing you need to do is introduce that sort of complication into this mess. Just enjoy this for what it is…whatever this is._

Changing tracks, she wondered what might have happened had their escape from Hoth gone smoother. The likelihood they would have reconciled before he left, let alone shared this intimacy, would have been remote. Instead, they probably would have parted with barely a civil word spoken, and her life would have become that much emptier. It was a depressing thought that caused her hug to become more possessive.

"Is it wrong for me to say I'm glad the hyperdrive failed?" Leia mused, a little surprised by her own words—her duty and dedication were still very much intact, and yet she was finding this four-week diversion nowhere near as odious as expected. In fact, things had taken a dramatic turn toward the positive.

"Wrong? Nah…But crazy? Absolutely! If all you'd wanted to do was to sleep with me, you could've just asked."

_You walked right into that one, didn't you?_

Still in the middle of formulating a suitable retort, Leia jumped when the cabin hatch hissed open to reveal a very surprised Chewbacca, who ducked his head and disappeared into the fresher with a subdued bark of apology. Letting out a knee-jerk Alderaani curse, an equally ingrained sense of propriety made her dive under the covers.

Laughing, Han picked up the end of the sheet and peered in at her. "Don't worry about Chewie. There aren't many secrets left on this ship."

"But…" She didn't really have a follow-up and stopped.

_What did you expect?_ _There's only one fresher and you didn't exactly announce your intentions tonight, did you?_

"Hey, if he didn't like you here with me, you'd know about it. Trust me."

Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried to center herself. In the span of a few days she'd gone from openly despising Han to sharing his bed, and already it was public knowledge before their first night was over. What would the Wookiee, and by extension everyone else, think of her? Some people, like Chewbacca, General Rieekan, Kristin, and maybe Luke might approve or even applaud, if their suspicious tinkering and comments were anything to go by, but there would doubtless be others not at all impressed by her choice of consort.

Leia shrugged it off. What business was it of theirs? The world she would have come to rule no longer existed, she was officially persona non grata, and she chafed at playing the cherished yet pathetic icon of Imperial oppression for High Command. By her own insistence and persistence, she'd carved out a new niche for herself in the Rebellion by becoming what amounted to a glorified quartermaster, something that kept her busy, kept her involved, and provided her the opportunity to go out on missions whenever she could convince them to let her off the leash. In truth, she no longer answered to anyone unless she chose to do so.

Grinning into the side of Han's chest, Leia found she liked that idea. She hadn't picked this man out of any obligation or political expedience; she'd picked him because of who he was to her, how he made her feel, and because she felt a deep compulsion to share those things in return. Becoming his lover had been a deliberate and very personal choice, and she wouldn't regret that. While they didn't always agree and Han didn't always understand her, at least he _tried_ most of the time, and that was a stroke of luck she wouldn't take for granted.

_The fact he's handsome enough to make me stammer is a nice perk, too, isn't it?_

Getting back up onto an elbow, but making sure this time that the blanket stayed up around her shoulders, Leia gazed down at her fine-looking spacer, taking in his expectant expression, wanting to say something about how she felt but unsure if he would welcome it. Intuition told her he might, but old fears remained that he would shy away from commitment-laden words like "love." If she guessed wrong, it could be the surest way to chase him off, and it dimmed her elation to think that saying something so heartfelt might have the opposite effect of her intention. Longing to understand him a bit more, she reached up to run a finger along his lips.

Han kissed the tip. "You okay?"

Realizing she'd been staring, Leia nodded and her eyelids drooped a little, feeling a shade embarrassed. "You're used to being interrupted?"

"No, but after you've spaced for a while, it's just not a big deal anymore. We've both seen a lot worse."

Not wanting to know, Leia grimaced and desperately hoped she hadn't ranked on the spectacle list. Maybe this was a concession she would have to make for being involved with a man who lived on such a small starship. Her life had become just as nomadic as his life on this tramp freighter, she supposed, but it was still a bit of culture shock from what she'd grown up with on Alderaan, where privacy had been more than just a privilege of status, but a personal right. Strange how those sorts of mundane details never played a part in any of her fantasies involving Han. What else had she left out?

"Don't worry. Now that he knows, he'll be more careful about his timing. Maybe we'll just have to set up a warning system…"

"What, like hanging one of those socks outside the door?"

Han burst out laughing at the universal signal to other roommates to clear off. "Yeah, that would work." A big yawn followed as his back arched up, and then he scratched his head.

Too late to look away, she was unable to stop her own sympathetic yawn.

"Tired?"

Feeling a tad embarrassed, Leia nodded.

"Bored already?"

She dropped her head down on his chest. "I could fill a datapad with words to describe you, but 'boring' would never be one of them."

The fresher door cracked open again, and Leia lifted her head in time to see the Wookiee opening the cabin hatch, but Han called out, stopping him.

"Hey, Chewie, douse those lights, would ya?"

Chewbacca surveyed them both for a moment before nodding and giving a big toothy grin. "[Looks like I win the pool.]" With that, he switched the lights off and disappeared into the corridor.

"Smart ass!" Han shouted after him before the hatch slid shut, plunging the room into near total darkness except for the sliver of dim red light coming from the fresher entrance.

Straining to adjust her eyes, Leia squinted down at him. "What? A _betting_ pool?"

"Troublemaker," Han grumbled as he rearranged his pillow. "Long story, Sweetheart. I'll tell you in the morning."

"Forget it, I don't want to know." Stuck somewhere between horrified and amused, she gave it up as a lost cause and dropped back down to the mattress. Dealing with Han Solo was like having the gravity generators switched on and off without warning; half the time she couldn't tell which end was up anymore.

_You might as well get used to it. Scoundrel, remember?_


	17. The followthrough

**Chapter 17 — The follow-through**

Something outside the normal sounds of the _Millennium Falcon_ in flight brought Han out of a deep sleep, and in an instant he was on guard, his keen senses focused on his familiar surroundings, listening for the slightest hint of danger while his mind rehearsed the moves it would take to retrieve the spare blaster from the drawer beneath his bunk. The strange sound happened again—a whimper only centims away from his ear—and as awareness returned he relaxed, realizing the source of the odd noise. Curled up and spooned with him, her smooth bare back pressed up against his chest, Princess Leia occupied a corner of his pillow. With his free arm still draped over her slim waist, knees drawn up behind hers, he was surprised to discover he was cuddling. In his previous sexual encounters, sleeping wasn't something he'd ever had the luxury or inclination to do. A satisfied smile now emerged as specific memories of how she'd ended up resting beside him filled his mind.

_I don't think this is a dream, but it would sure qualify as one of your better ones if it is._

There was another soft moan and his pleasant blur vanished—that was a sound of distress. Was she crying? Had he hurt her? Sudden worry clenched at his heart. "Leia?"

Getting no response, he was stumped as to what to do if she wouldn't even acknowledge him. Then it dawned on him that she might be in the middle of another nightmare. After leveraging up onto an elbow to peer down at her shadowed profile in the dim light, he confirmed she was indeed still asleep.

Even now, despite the long-overdue consummation of their relationship, and her being safe in his arms, she was suffering.

_That's some ego you've got there. Did you really think just bedding her would fix all her problems?_

Dropping back down, he buried his face into his pillow.

_Bastards!_

He fought back the wave of pure rage he felt toward those responsible for tormenting her like this—for torturing her years ago and leaving this legacy to haunt her nights. Her dreams were the one place he couldn't protect her and it left him feeling frustrated, powerless. It made him want to throttle every Imperial from here to Coruscant, and if it meant she might sleep without fear, he'd gladly tear down the Empire single-handed. He still didn't give a damn about the rest of the universe, but he'd fight for her; he'd fight without hesitation because there wasn't anything he could imagine more worthwhile.

_Where do I sign up for that, huh? _

Yet another distraught whimper called Han into action. Having no recourse, he pressed his lips near her ear and did what seemed to help a few nights ago; he just talked. "Shhhhhhh, Leia. It's okay. I'm right here…I'm right here, Sweetheart. Tell them to fuck off."

Just imagining what her reaction would be if she were awake made him grin, but he was a firm believer in the direct approach and there was no sense in being civil with monsters.

Serious once more, he let out a heavy sigh and cupped the curve of her shoulder, holding her closer, as he repeated the comforting words and waited for her to settle down and for the sound of deep breathing to resume as she grew peaceful.

Leia never spoke about what happened on the _Death Star_ before they'd broken her out of her holding cell—not to him, not to Luke, not to anyone from what he could tell. High Command had assigned her a psychologist—it was standard procedure—but he suspected she avoided those sessions like she did the topic in general. All he knew was that she'd been through hell; that fact made him furious, and although he couldn't blame her for never wanting to think about it again, her silence left him in the dark…and sometimes his own imagination just made the darkness worse. Sometimes, if he dwelt too long on the thought, he felt angry enough to do something stupid like smash a fist against an unyielding bulkhead, or attempt to rip apart Wookiee-style the first Imperial he came across, or accept one of those long-standing military commissions Rieekan kept offering him. Logic told him reactions like that, fueled by blind rage, would change nothing, but that primal urge to avenge her had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with pure male instinct to protect a mate.

That possessive thought, and the novelty of Leia's warm, breathtaking body pressed against his, started to have an effect he couldn't deny as his body responded despite his reluctance to disturb her. Vivid recollections from last night inundated his thoughts: the look of unveiled desire in her eyes; the moment she dropped her last barrier and removed his borrowed shirt to expose all of her soft curved flesh to him; her intoxicating scent; her eyes rolling back in ecstasy beneath his touch while moaning his name. The avalanche awakened him again and he knew it was a losing battle—that he would succumb to temptation if he stayed much longer. He rolled away, determined to let her sleep, and glanced at the chrono mounted into a panel of the bunk wall. Surprised to learn it wasn't as early as he'd thought, if he got up now, showered and shaved, and then did an inspection tour of the ship, it'd be about the time to wake up anyway.

It took sheer willpower to climb out of the bunk, where he paused a moment to make sure she was still tucked in under the covers before heading for the fresher.

When Han emerged some time later, Leia still appeared sound asleep, although at some point she'd rolled onto her stomach, one arm stretched out toward him. Grabbing the clothing he'd abandoned in the middle of the floor the night before, he returned to the fresher to stuff them into the autovalet, and then opened a storage locker to start rummaging for a clean pair of undershorts. He was slipping them on when he heard a sigh and turned to watch her shifting around on his bunk, pale arms almost glowing in the dim red-tinged light. The sight was such a complete novelty—so much skin beneath the dark cloud of hair spilling around her shoulders—that it took a second to realize she'd awakened as her head lifted up and turned toward him.

"Han? What's wrong?"Leia asked in a cautious whisper, hints of confusion and worry clouding her voice.

He stepped over next to the bunk to see her better, but reconsidered the impulse to sit on the edge. "Nothing, Sweetheart. Something woke me up. I'm just going to check on the ship quick. Go back to sleep."

She made a wordless sound of acknowledgement, but then shook her head and sat up, drawing the white sheet up with her. "No, I'm awake now. What time is it?"

"Oh-six-thirty."

Despite her statement, his answer drew a tired groan as she rubbed an eye with the heel of a hand.

"How did you sleep?"

"Better…Everything seems better with you…"

Han barely contained a snort. "I can't believe you just said that."

Ducking her head, she pulled the white sheet a bit closer. "Neither can I. Ignore me."

"Not possible." Here was a side to Leia he'd always suspected but rarely seen, now fully realized just for him. He wanted to smooth his hand over her exposed shoulder, kiss her lips and pull her back into his arms, but he restrained himself, knowing once he started he wouldn't be able to stop. Instead he gestured toward the door. "I gotta go check on the ship, but I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"Where would I go?"

It was probably meant to be teasing, but her yawn made the comment sound innocent. With a last lazy smile, he headed for the door, not bothering with trousers since he didn't plan to be gone long.

_Buddy, has your luck changed!_

After all this time, he'd begun to think it would never happen; that he was deluding himself for years with the idea that she would have him. It was the utter truth when he told her he'd never wanted anyone so much, and it was a bit frightening to learn that the feeling had not diminished now that he'd attained that goal. Unable to explain his growing fascination with a smart-mouthed, pint-sized head-strong woman, who attracted trouble like a super-charged magnet and carried more baggage than the _Falcon_'s rear hold, the cynical part of him had been convinced that bunking her would quench that craving; that once he'd seduced her, he could leave her and move on, that insane itch satisfied. But seeing her naked body in his bunk this morning, and hearing her dulcet voice confess how he made her feel, left him wanting nothing more than to crawl back into her arms and immerse himself again. In his single-minded determination to have her, he'd fallen into his own trap, and what was more, he _liked_ it there.

Walking down the corridor toward the cockpit, he couldn't help the big grin he knew decorated his face. Every argument between them and every frustrated night he'd spent dealing with unresolved lust—all of it had been a small price compared to the payoff. Last night she had sought him out, offering herself up of her own accord, and he didn't take that decision lightly; he knew the obstacles she'd overcome to reach this point, the risks she faced, and it caused a glow in his chest in the vicinity of his heart to think she wanted him despite his shady career, his evident lack of pedigree, and his quirky nature. This fact, more than anything, left him feeling higher than a kid on his first crush.

And then there was the physical part; how she looked, how she responded to each caress, how she awakened every nerve ending as she rubbed her supple body against his, nearly making him explode that first time she touched him. It had taken every trick he knew and every ounce of control to last as long as he had, while she felt like liquid fire engulfing him. The very thought gave him a delicious shiver.

Once in the cockpit, Han ran a quick systems check, but he didn't linger. Only there to assuage any possible guilt later since he had no intention of returning to the cockpit any time soon, he left moments later and headed to the galley to draw a tumbler of water to bring back. Finishing the circuit around the ship, he returned to the cabin and cycled open the hatch to find the main lights up to full and Leia standing near the spare bunk, wearing his white dress shirt once again. Already freshened up, she was in the middle of running a brush through her long hair.

"Everything okay?"

"More than okay." Moving past her to set the glass of water on the little recessed shelf above the head of his bunk, he turned back to take in the sight of her in his shirt once again—she looked even sexier now with all those implications of borrowing his clothing realized.

Without another word, he drew her into his arms, bending down to kiss those lips like he'd wanted to earlier, and found her instantly malleable, just like he'd always imagined she would be, making his arousal flare hot. He wanted—needed!—to feel her again, to lose himself inside her. The hairbrush clattered to the deck and there was no hesitation this time as her hands ran over his exposed torso, raking through his hair. There was a new desperation in her kiss, matching his impatience as he started lifting the shirt back off her, interrupting her explorations. Leaving her to find her own way out of the shirt now entangled over her head, his hands reclaimed her breasts, and then her mouth was back on his, alive and returning his hunger as her eager fingers wormed inside the waistband of his shorts before shoving them off his hips; they fell down around his ankles, already forgotten as her hands reached back to grip his ass, welding him hard against her, drawing a moan out of him. She was a quick study, all right, a discovery that came as no surprise, but he reveled in the confirmation. One of those slim hands wrapped around his ready erection, making him grunt as he arched into her. Not about to stop her this time, he probed her mouth with his tongue, matching her stroke. Rock hard and throbbing within her exquisite grasp, he gave in to the power of his need, running a hand along the shapely leg already hooked around his, and then hoisted her up in his arms. As her legs wrapped tight around his hips, slender arms around his neck, he navigated blind toward the closest bunk and nearly tripped when his feet tangled in the forgotten shorts; she didn't seem to register the hitch, her mouth locked on his again. Kicking the shorts out of his way, he climbed into the bunk and deposited her on top of the blanket. Already smelling her arousal, the headiest perfume, even before his hand sought confirmation that she was ready for him, his urgency to take her now overrode everything else. With no fanfare other than another deep kiss, he was guiding himself back inside, thrusting all the way in, and she sang out in wordless pleasure, clutching at him, pulling him down to wrap her body around his. He drove into her again and was rewarded with a moan very different from the distressed one that had awoken him earlier—he needed to hear this new one, needed desperately to replace the old one in his mind with her renewed sounds of ecstasy as they undulated together. Beyond speech, he gripped her shoulder for better leverage as his other hand slipped between them to stroke in time with his thrusts. Her beautiful face was a study in rapture, brown eyes opening now and again to meet his, reflecting his craving, and he could feel her beginning to clench up beneath him, her body trembling, and could see she was already close, as close as he was to a climax. Needing to do this, needing to push her past that last barrier before he could let go, he dropped his head to press his mouth to hers again while thrusting faster, knowing it was a race against time now. Then she broke away, gasping his name, and he barely had time to register her body rippling under him, around him, before he tumbled over the edge after her.

A tremor was still rolling through his body when he finally opened his eyes, lifting his head up from where it had fallen on her shoulder. "Leia," he murmured, short of breath but needing to say her name, needing to confirm her reality. Sweat stung his eyes, making him squint as he rose up far enough to catch her the expression of blissful wonder and amazement; she looked as dazed as he felt, and he could honestly say he'd never felt anything quite like that before. The urgency? Sure. But the overwhelming need to possess someone both body and soul? Feeling like he _was_ possessed? Never.

_That's love, Solo. That's the one thing in this whole equation you never figured on._

She brought up a hand to press it against his cheek, her dark eyes wide. "What _was_ that?"

Han couldn't help it; he started to laugh, and it was only a second before she joined him in the emotional release. "I'd call that a hell of a great way to start the day."

Leia's hands were all over him again, and then he felt her give a deliberate squeeze around him, causing him to let out a surprised grunt of pleasure. Watching his expression, she gave another experimental clench. "How does that feel?"

"Wonderful. Do it again…" The sensation wasn't a novelty, but the fact this was Leia took the act into a whole other realm of eroticism. She did as requested, and it would normally have been enough to push him out, but instead he felt his fading erection stir, his passion reviving.

_When was the last time _that_ happened? _

Rocking his hips, he grinned at the renewed look of astonishment on her radiant face. "You said to let you know when there's another special occasion…?"

"I did, didn't I…? Wow."

Hearing this woman grow so ineloquent was the best compliment of all. He made a few slow, lazy strokes before slipping his arms around her and rolling onto his side, encouraging her to move with him; were they in his wider bunk, the maneuver would have been much easier, but as it was it took them a few moments of shifting around before he was on his back with her resting on top.

Meeting his eyes, still appearing somewhat tentative, she lifted herself up off his chest onto her knees and hands, sitting astride him. Her long hair fell like a curtain over them, but then she reached up to gather it all so that it cascaded down over one shoulder. When he lifted his hips, needing the friction, she rose with him and then paused there as his hips dropped back to the bunk, letting him slide most of his length before she sank back down, taking him all the way back in. The sight and sensation nearly sent him over the edge again. Poised above him like that, her body flushed with excitement, lips swollen from his crushing kisses, eyes hooded and locked on his, he recognized he was lost. His life was altered, and for the first time in his rather empty life he began to believe in the possibility of a soul mate. She was right—they did make a good team, in ways neither had anticipated.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his tone reverent and unmasked.

"I love you."

She'd blurted it by mistake, for the surprise, terror, and vulnerability that suddenly warred over her face was obvious. They ground to a halt, staring at one another for a timeless second while it felt as if an airlock had cycled open, letting the atmosphere out with a whoosh.

"I love you, too." And he discovered it wasn't so difficult after all, saying it in front of her. Without question it was more rewarding when she was awake, seeing her eyes light up with pure relief and joy, her striking features transformed.

Before he could pull her down into his arms, Leia dropped down onto his chest, burying her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "Goddess help me, but I love you." Then she was on her hands once more, her mouth devouring his.

Feeling as if waves of emotion were radiating off of her like a force field to engulf him, he gave up trying to understand any of this anymore; it was all so outside his experience, beyond anything he'd imagined or wanted before. The physical pleasure was there, familiar and powerful, but this…? He'd never anticipated being swept up with her. It was like winning the galactic Grand Lottery. Twice.

_You knew she was incapable of half-measures. You knew she'd dive into this with the same intensity she pours into every other cause she takes on. It's no wonder she was afraid of this—she was right to fear it with you._

He knew of no better way to demonstrate his own feelings than to drive his hips upward again, lifting her up, showing her just how much she affected him. As she responded and they fell into an instinctual rhythm, he let her take control, overjoyed to watch her writhe above him as she learned what gave them both pleasure, and losing herself in the effort.

"That's it," he encouraged, his hands roaming her heated body, massaging her breasts as she rode him harder in search of another release, wanting nothing more than to give it to her. He recognized the signs and knew she was close, could see the look of concentration and pleasure in her expression, and as her pace increased he could feel his own climax fast approaching, but this was another race he was determined to let her win. She didn't make him wait long, and then the supernova that had been building up in him flared white, overloading his system as he grabbed her hips and pumped into her.

Shaking, Leia collapsed, and while he loved the weight of her on top of him, she felt hotter than a core reactor going critical. Taking hold of her shoulders, he kissed her forehead and then guided her off to the blind side of the bunk, their union finally broken. Despite feeling spent, he couldn't help laughing again.

Sprawled out on her stomach as much as the narrow bunk would allow, Leia seemed to regain her wits faster than her breath, although she still looked a bit overwhelmed, as if not sure what to make of it all. "What's so funny?"

"Guess I should've planned this a little better. I could really use that glass of water right now…"

"Oh." After lifting her head just high enough to see over him, she groaned and dropped it back down. "It _is_ awfully far away, isn't it?"

"Parsecs." Eyes closed, he exhaled loudly, his heart still racing even as the postponed post-coital lethargy caught up with a vengeance, leaving him drowsy. He barely noticed her move beside him, but then his eyes shot open when she began climbing back on top. "Leia, there's _no way_—"

"Hush. I'm going to get the water, Hotshot."

"Oh." Chuckling in relief, his head lolled to the side as he watched her lithe form dismount and pad over to the other bunk to retrieve the glass from the shelf. Her body was fantastic, proportioned and toned just right for her petite size, but knowing her, that was more due to dedicated combat training than out of any sense of vanity. Sometimes, from the way she acted when he complimented her, he suspected she really was unaware of just how beautiful she appeared.

_She's going to give you a run for your money. You'd better be ready to keep up. _

Taking a long drink of water before passing him the glass, Leia then dipped down to retrieve the dropped hairbrush. "I'll be right back," she said before disappearing into the fresher.

After getting up onto an elbow and taking a big swig, he took another mouthful before sinking back down, holding the cool water in his mouth for a long moment to rehydrate before swallowing. At last feeling himself calm down, he let his eyes close again.

_I don't know what you did to deserve her, Buddy, but don't blow it._

This woman had picked him, giving what was probably the last of her innocence to him, and he was pretty sure he was the luckiest man in the known universe for it. He only hoped he could live up to the honor.

The fresher door opened again and Leia reappeared. Pausing to grab the loose blanket from his usual bunk, she brought it with her as she climbed back over him and stretched out, pulling the cover over them both. There followed a long, peaceful moment of shared silence as she snuggled up against his side, like some long-lost puzzle piece falling into place.

_If humans could purr, I'm pretty sure we'd both be doing it right about now. _

Han was nearly asleep when her soft voice drew him back to the present.

"I love you." It sounded tentative, as if testing to see if his reaction might change, but there was no question of intent this time.

"I know." Tipping his head to find her gaze, Han's smile was genuine. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Princess. You know that?"

What he got was a new expression from her, something between bemused disbelief and astonishment, as though she couldn't imagine ever being that important to him. "Me? Even when I'm driving you crazy?"

"Especially then."

Leia grinned then and closed her eyes while sliding a hand along his chest until it rested over his heart, where it rose with each breath. "That's funny. I was thinking the same thing."


	18. The suite

**Chapter 18 — The suite**

Standing in the middle of the crew's quarters, holding a folded blanket still warm from the autovalet, Leia watched Han make the bunk, her smile no doubt a bit dopey and her mood mellow.

_Satiated is probably the more appropriate term. You're besotted. Smitten. A goner._

They were just starting the second week now, only a quarter of the way into their long slog through the Anoat System, and life was falling into a routine, if anything about the novelty of living in close quarters with Solo could be called routine.

Having entered into this situation with very little idea of how things would change aboard ship after climbing into Han's bunk, it had been a huge risk for a variety of reasons, the most glaring being that they were two strong personalities trapped in a small space for a long time, and if things didn't work out, it could get very ugly very fast. But other than the divergence from their old pattern of arguing, little else seemed different. Their days were spent continuing with various repairs, doing basic chores, taking long breaks for meals, and sometimes just lounging around reading, playing games, and talking.

_Lots of talking. That may be my favorite part. Well, almost._

Still prone to silence about his past unless Chewbacca brought up something specific, Han was quite happy to talk about anything else, and many hours were spent cuddled up on the acceleration couch in the lounge, or on his lap in the cockpit, or reclined in his bunk as they teased and learned about one another. Staving off boredom might have been their biggest challenge before the change, but there wasn't enough time in the day now.

The only other big change, of course, was what they did when they stopped talking. The introduction of frequent groping sessions, which seemed to occur whenever and wherever the mood struck, definitely kept the dullness factor down to a minimum. It came as a bit of a relief to discover that he couldn't get enough of her, either.

Today Leia spent the morning helping the two smugglers replace aging gaskets around the hatches of the hidden smuggling compartments beneath the flooring of the circular corridor, meant to keep them from creaking and echoing. After lunch, she trailed behind Han as he conducted more mundane shipboard duties, doing her part by lending a hand.

From infancy Leia had been surrounded by attendants and service droids to take care of the more humdrum chores in life, and even after her immersion in the nomadic existence of a fugitive Rebel, she'd had little need to devote her time to such things. Following her arrival on the Yavin base, General Dodonna had assigned her an orderly, but no sooner had she rejected this as a waste of valuable resources than Luke had foisted Threepio upon her, his reason being that she had more use for a protocol droid who could double as a personal assistant. She wasn't convinced his motives were altruistic, though, because every time she sent Threepio off on an errand to assist Luke (or Han if she just felt like irritating him), in no time she would find the obnoxious droid back in her quarters tidying up her cot or handling her laundry or organizing her desk. Here on the _Falcon_, with everyone aboard more than happy to leave the silent droid occupying the abandoned communications station, she found herself chipping in on a variety of new tasks for the first time, and in a way she found it refreshing. In fact, she'd even managed putting together a couple of meals, despite her concern over squandering precious food in cooking experiments; with Han's guidance, the results had been passable, even though he was arguably as much a distraction as a help in the cramped kitchenette.

_Just look at all the new skills you're learning on this trip._

That thought almost made her laugh out loud.

She found endless fascination in watching Han, a man whom she'd always known to be restless, action-oriented, and anything but domestic, doing uninteresting but necessary duties like swabbing the deck plates or changing the linens on their bunk.

_Their bunk. _

Leia smirked at the possessive thought. She liked the sound of that.

Here was an unanticipated facet to the man she loved, seeing him fiddle with the top sheet until it was perfectly smooth and taunt. No question but this was a legacy of his drilling in the Naval Academy.

_Don't even bother. He'll deny any implication that he should become a military leader within the Alliance. Just be happy in knowing he could. _

Right now she couldn't help but be amused by the effort Han expended on this particular task, and she fought a contrary urge to push him back onto the bunk and muss it up.

Straightening up and turning, as if about to ask for the blanket, he paused when he saw her impish expression. "What are you thinking?"

"Who, me?"

She might as well have set off the hull-breach alarm if she'd wanted to get Han's full attention. He waited, hazel eyes narrowing at her.

Leia caved. "Why do you bother?"

"With what?"

She pointed at the bed. "We're only going to mess it up in a few hours. It seems like a lot of work for nothing."

For a moment the captain gave her a look as though she'd just spoken in tongues, and then his look turned almost feral. "Fine. Starting right now, Your Worship, you're in charge of making the bunks."

"Fine. And don't call me that." That last directive was tacked on out of pure habit, as he'd demonstrated no inclination to stop using that particular title—in fact it seemed his standard go-to whenever he wanted to tweak her.

Reaching out to grip her arm, Han pulled her up against his chest, her crossed arms and the blanket sandwiched between them. As he started a languorous kiss on her mouth that migrated to the area below her ear, her resolve began to melt.

_Leave it to Han to not fight fair. _

The moment she moaned, he pulled her around and tipped her off-balance, causing her to fall back onto the just-made sheets with a shriek of laughter. "No sense in waiting," he growled as he crawled onto the bunk after her.

Leia let out a disgusted sound that contradicted with her actions as she tossed the blanket to the side and reached up to grab his belt buckle. "You'll pay for this, Solo."

"Put it on my tab…"

***

Leia once again stood in the center of the cabin, arms loaded with laundered clothing fresh from the autovalet as she stared at their bunk. Han was off assisting Chewbacca with something in the forward hold, trying to fix whatever was rattling in the air circulation assembly. While she loved every minute spent wallowing in his attention, she was glad for the occasional break alone so she could clear her mind. That, and the clattering noise really _was_ driving her a bit mad.

Despite vague images of lingering nightmares, she felt like she was sleeping better. Whether she could chalk that up to simple physical fatigue after enthusiastic lovemaking, or the reassuring feeling of Han holding her through the night, was still up for debate, but content with either conclusion, the sensation of waking up next to him was something that made her feel richer than any of the wealth in her previous life. She'd gleaned through gossip and snippets of overheard conversations that most men weren't cuddlers, so who would've thought she'd score the jackpot on her first attempt, and with Solo of all men. Her snuggling smuggler…or was that smuggling snuggler?

_You are doomed to wear this foolish smile every time you think about him, aren't you?_

Never having allowed a close inspection and analysis of her feelings for Han until this trip, she wanted to explore them all now, to examine what it meant in her life and marvel at what he managed to generate within her, even after years of intentional emptiness. Maybe it was just her imagination, but that change seemed to show in her reflection in the mirror, and she couldn't help but wonder if this would be obvious to others once they reached civilization.

There had been a time in her youth, even during her grooming to fight the Empire, when she'd maintained a typical romantic fantasy life. She'd indulged in the dreamy holo-vids and stories of finding a man to love and build that future with, like any other teenager, only repressing it out of necessity when duty called, but still dreaming just the same. Back then she'd believed in the power of love, but more importantly, she'd believed it would happen to her some day.

Although she'd survived the destruction of Alderaan, her dreams had died with it. Even as she'd resumed the fight for the Rebellion with renewed vigor, for the greater good, the struggle was not for her own sake because she no longer believed she would live to see the end of the war. There seemed little point in dreaming about some happy future when there appeared to be nothing personal left in the balance, nothing waiting for her at the other end.

The introduction of Han, Luke, and Chewbacca into her life, and their growing importance within it, had helped to assuage that loss. They were like a lifeline around her waist, pulling her along, often against her will, but it was Han who remained single-minded in his resolve to rescue he; he confronted her unspoken despair, as if determined to fill the vacuum where her heart had been, daring her to feel again. Whether it was making her fume or blush or just smile, he never failed to elicit a reaction. For the longest time she was perplexed by why such a self-proclaimed loner cared or bothered, and yet he had. Maybe he'd sensed and sympathized with her lost dreams, or maybe he'd just been drawn to fix what was clearly broken within her. For whatever reasons, he hadn't quit her and now, in some corner of her mind, a new kernel of hope had sprouted as a vision of a possible future that made her own life worth living again. To imagine that some day they could both stop running and be together like this, far beyond just a few weeks, gave her a new goal and enthusiasm. Hadn't she once believed in the power of hope?

Leia knew on some level that their situation right now aboard the _Falcon_ wasn't realistic; that they were for all practical purposes sealed away from the truths of their lives, the war, and the rest of the universe during this long trek to Bespin. Too soon it would end and then they would have to face all those challenges once more, and from a new and unfamiliar footing. She hoped they were prepared and strengthened by the evolving relationship, rather than weakened by the emotional exposure. Perhaps their shared hardships over the years would temper their bond, making it that much stronger.

Standing there, arms full of the clean clothing they shared, she knew her life was altered, and while it had not come full circle—it never could—it had undergone another tectonic shift. Despite the extraordinary connection she felt with Han, she knew he'd had plenty of sexual partners—it was obvious in his skill and confidence—and she didn't dare ask him if what they shared now was typical; if coupling was always like this. A part of her was afraid he might say yes. Maybe it was because they'd waited so long while hashing out their personal hang-ups, or maybe it was because of all the shared hardships of their past and the emotional bonding that was bound to happen as a result. Perhaps it was just destiny, if one was prone to believing in things like the Force…

Was Han the man she dreamt would swoop in to the rescue? He could be a gentleman when it suited his mood. Had theirs been a romance anyone would want to watch in a holodrama? Hardly, unless living in adverse conditions, barely avoiding any number of sudden violent deaths, and arguing about and worrying over whether he would disappear one day for good could be considered romantic—she certainly didn't think so and wouldn't wish the experience on anyone. But he _had_ saved her life a few times, and he was also rakishly handsome, brave to a fault, and proven prone to ravishing her with little warning.

_What's not to love?_

Leia grinned at that.

_You've got it bad. Face it, you were doomed the moment he suggested going back into your cell if you didn't like his method of rescue._ _What other man would have said that to a princess?_

Snapping out of her little reverie, Leia moved over to the side and popped open the hatch of the upper storage locker where Han stored his clothing. Conscious of his tendencies, she stowed away the various pieces in neat order, but then paused, never having had the opportunity to really look at his things before, either out of denial of any interest in him or fear of getting caught. None of those reasons held sway anymore, and curiosity caused her to look closer now. There was the unsurprising collection of brown, black, and blue trousers, most of them with that eye-catching Corellian Blood Stripe, the obsolete sign of a Spacer's Guild member, running down the outside seams. Someday she would have to ask why he still insisted on wearing it. Was it out of a sense of tradition, or just a way to thumb his nose at the Empire for disbanding the Guild a decade ago?

There was also an assortment of work and dress shirts, nondescript boxer-briefs, and mostly normal socks. None of it was out of the ordinary or that she hadn't seen him wear at some point, but that was just this locker and there were five others within the crew's quarters, plus the single drawers under each bunk. Biting her lower lip and wondering if peeking into the other cabinets amounted to prying, she decided she'd earned the right to look a little. He _had_ invited her to anything on the ship, even before they slept together.

_Besides, we've learned every naked centim of each other's bodies in the past week—you can't get much more intimate than that._

Closing the hatch on the upper locker, she crouched down and opened the lower one. Foul weather gear, thermal clothing, jackets, another pair of polished spacer boots, snow boots and various other shoes, all neatly stowed away for fast and easy access. No surprise, considering the nature of his training and career. Despite the chaos that tended to surround him, or maybe because of it, his life was neat and orderly in here.

Closing the door, Leia shifted over to the neighboring cabinet and checked it out, only to find bed linens, towels, extra toiletries and grooming items. Again, nothing very interesting.

With a sigh, beginning to wonder if this was yet another dead-end in her attempts to learn more about Han, Leia straightened up and toed the door closed. She reached to pull open the second upper door and was instantly glad she'd stuck with the search. The hero's medal she'd draped around his neck back on Yavin IV, only a day after they'd met, hung from the inside of the door and banged against the metal as she swung it open. Surprised to see it at all, let alone displayed among his personal items, she thought of all the times over the years when he'd taunted her with various demises for the rather tacky award; everything from pawning it off to buy a substandard bottle of Novarian brandy, to macro-fusing it to the sub-light engine housing to plug up a coolant leak. Yet all this time it must have hung here, a reminder whenever he opened the locker.

With a wry smile, Leia shook her head.

_Between this and the Blood Stripe, he's more sentimental than I thought._

Peering around, taking in the mysterious odds and ends stashed away in compartmented trays and shelves, she found an elegant man's ring she'd never seen him wear. And there was the golden Spacers Guild token she'd lost back on Hoth, the one she'd possessed for all of maybe five minutes before dropping it. She hadn't even known what it was when Kristin had given it to her, but he'd pocketed it in the belief it had meant something to her, and she hadn't bothered to correct his assumption. There were various other little trinkets that must have held some memory or value to him but seemed ordinary to her, although they did generate curiosity. There was a second datapad that was no doubt of a more personal nature than the public one out in the lounge; she wasn't about to touch that without his permission, and besides, the Goddess only knew what might be on it. Lining the back of the cabinet was a stack of holo-disks with cryptic labels, and although those caught her attention, they were something she'd have to investigate another time. But then one of the disks in particular caught her eye, the label nothing more than a handwritten date—her Majority Day from over a year ago. Curiosity wining out over caution, she reached in and pulled it out from the stack, then hesitated a moment to glance at the closed cabin door as she experienced a twinge of guilt before triggering the holo-disk.

There was a bluish-white glow, and then they appeared—she and Han, the night they'd celebrated the coincidence of both her and Luke reaching Majority at the same time, when what had started as a small party for Luke among the pilots had swelled into a Base-wide spontaneous excuse to blow off steam. There was loud music, lots of voices and laughter, and much alcohol—much more than she would have suspected was authorized or available on base. In the holo they were both holding mess hall tumblers and sipping a potent beverage she'd never been able to identify; they must have already imbibed quite a bit by the time the recording was taken, because they both had that tell-tale glazed expression. With his arm wrapped around her waist, his large hand gripping her hip and his fingers visibly digging into her at times, while her own arm was buried somewhere beneath his blue flight jacket, they looked thoroughly blitzed. What was most surprising, though, was that she couldn't recall that happening. The big smile plastered across her face matched Han's as they laughed at something off to her side, then suddenly Han bent down to say something to that younger Leia, but his words were lost to the background noise. There was no missing her reaction, however—she let out a raucous laugh that would have made her court tutors blanch, swatted playfully at his shoulder, then tugged at his arm and snuggled against his side as he landed a kiss on her temple. They both paused to shamelessly mug for the recorder.

The holo flickered and ended, snapping Leia out of her trance. Unable to tell which was more shocking—the fact that they looked so relaxed and happy together, even back then, or that she couldn't remember the incident—she snapped her mouth closed and triggered the holo again.

Her smile. His laugh. She strained to hear whatever it was he said to that far-away woman to make her laugh like that, despite a night she remembered more as a sad milestone of the passing year and what seemed a hopeless life ahead. But here was Han, breaking through that despair yet again, and someone had captured it in a holo; it was priceless evidence of everything he had become to her.

Leia played it again.

She'd never seen them together like this, as a couple, and how others must have perceived them that night: happy; comfortable; natural. She fit beneath his arm like she belonged there, and they looked good together. No wonder the tongues on base had started wagging. No wonder she had found herself fighting a growing wave of gossip and suggestive hints. Even if there'd been nothing to it, the personnel on base were in such desperate need of hope and entertainment that they'd latched onto the idea of a heated affair blossoming between their two most visible residents, and refused to let it die. Every public argument, every moment they were spotted together, no matter how benign, had fed the rumor mill. Thus all her fears of becoming attached to the smuggler, all her efforts to deny theirs was anything more than a business relationship or mere friendship—all of it had been undone by a tumbler of jet juice.

_No wonder they didn't believe you anymore. It's so obvious._

Leia could do little more than shake her head. How appropriate. How typical. She was the last to see it, and the fact seemed to encapsulate their entire relationship in an ironic metaphor.

_You've been such a fool_.

She could guess all sorts of reasons for why Han kept the recording. Had he watched it over and over in fascination just as she'd done, perhaps wishing things could be different? It was no surprised that he kept it a secret; until now she wouldn't have believed him, or at best she might have passed it off as some drunken mistake.

_No more denials. No more betraying your instincts and feelings. All that accomplishes is unnecessary pain, and it fools no one. _

Lesson learned, she returned the holo to the stack and closed the locker door, done with exploring. Maybe the boys could use her help with that rattling AC system, after all.


	19. The tradeoff

**Chapter 19 — The tradeoff**

Dinner on the sixteenth day was a grim milestone of sorts—the last of the nerf steaks. By general consensus Chewie had the honor of preparing them, and he didn't let them down. Han almost never drank while in flight, but tonight he broke out a bottle of Fornean wine to commemorate the occasion, while the princess contributed by finding some appropriate music on the _Falcon_'s computer at the engineering station. The three of them now sat around the table, savoring the last of their meal as conversation lulled for a moment. He'd come to love this time, their sitting together to eat and share, like a family, and he supposed they _were_ family in an indirect way. Sometimes he found himself thinking that, if circumstances were different, he might have even considered asking Leia if she would be interested in making that link a little more legitimate.

_Crazier things have happened._

There was a sound at Han's side, from where the lady in question sat within arm's reach, her thigh pressed against his. He noticed she was staring down at her plate, fork still in hand, but he could feel her body shaking with silent laughter.

"What?" he prompted.

Her laughter no longer silent, Leia shook her head, but both he and Chewbacca kept staring at her, waiting for an explanation. When she still didn't confess, he prodded her with an elbow. "All right. Come on, what's so funny?"

Leia poked at the last bite of her steak before mumbling, "Nerfherder."

While Chewie choked on his mouthful, Han had to laugh as well at the random memory. "Yeah, that was a pretty good one, Your Worship. You get a point for originality."

"You were being such a pain." When she looked up, the obvious affection he found in those impossibly dark eyes made his pulse quicken, as did her free hand, which had found its way over into his lap. She'd learned early on that this was an excellent way to get his undivided attention, and she never passed up an opportunity. "I was inspired."

"Glad I was there for you, Sweetheart."

Leia's mood sobered in an instant as her hand slid forward to stop on his knee. Looking back down to her plate, she used her fork to make a pattern in the mashed root vegetable. "You've always been…"

Still in the middle of finding something witty to say, it took a moment before the deeper meaning of her words sank in and he stopped, out of momentum.

_You asked for that. Some things haven't changed, and you'd do everybody a favor by keeping that in mind._

He glanced to Chewie for support, but the Wookiee had found something new and fascinating in the recessed controls of the holochess table. Turning back, he debated what to say. Not only had they failed to discuss the future since the night she climbed into his bunk, but they seemed to be actively avoiding it.

"Do you remember that party the night of my Majority?"

Han felt one of his eyebrows tick up, surprised by the sudden tangent but grateful she was changing topic.

How could he forget?From the day they'd met, he had wanted to bunk her—he'd propositioned and teased because…well, that's what he did. And for a little while she played along, handling his flirting like the professional diplomat she was. But it wasn't long before something began to change between them, the game growing serious as he'd started meaning it and she'd started avoiding it, maybe because she'd meant it as well. Those pent up feelings had finally manifested in some very observable behaviors the night of that party, and afterward he'd known he wanted more than just a one-night fling, while she'd shifted from amused tolerance to self-conscious overheated denial.

"Sure, I remember. You could barely stand so I carried you back to your quarters, dumped you on your cot, and pulled your boots off. Then you passed out. Lieutenant Aldritch insisted on escorting, even though I told her I preferred my women a little more _conscious_."

"Yes, well…" Cheeks reddened, her head made a demure little dip. While he suspected she was more embarrassed to learn they'd had a very attentive witness, and that she'd been the center of a conversation of that nature, the news didn't prevent her hand from resuming the meandering trail along his thigh, which was always a good sign in his book.

"I also remember you slurring something about needing a personal mechanic someday, and wanting to see my credentials. But I figured that was the booze talking."

There was a definite snort from the direction of the astutely disinterested Wookiee, while Leia stared at him in cautious disbelief. "I did _not_ say that…"

"You don't remember?"

"No…but I did not say _that_."

"Suit yourself, but I started padding my resume the next morning."

"You are such a—" She stopped, still clearly unsure if he was baiting her, or telling the truth, or both. "Fine, well, evidently I don't remember most of that evening…I found a holo in your locker the other day."

"Ah, that." It was Han's turn to feel a little self-conscious. He hadn't forgotten about the holo—he'd watched it countless times whenever in need of a fix of her laugh, but since he started getting doses right from the potent source, there'd been no need. Then he noticed that Chewie was watching them with blatant curiosity. "The one you took that night, Buddy," he clarified.

"[Oh, _that_ one.]"

Distracted, Han frowned. "Of course '_that_ one.' What other one did you think we were talking about?"

Chewbacca rolled his blue eyes and shrugged, implying it could have meant anything.

"Pervert," Han accused with a smirk.

Giving Han a pointed look, Chewbacca said, "[I'm not the one testing out every flat surface on this ship like some pair of oversexed Zeltrons.]"

Leia's fork dropped with a clatter and her wandering hand disappeared in an instant, her look mortified. Not knowing whether to defend her honor, laugh at Chewie's good taunt, or be annoyed by the interrupted caress, Han erred on the side of the one that kept him warm at night. "Hey, show some respect, huh?"

"Chewie, I'm so sorry!"

"He's just jealous, Sweetheart. Don't—"

Pulling a discreet distance away from Han, her cheeks burning, Leia was taking the comment way too personally. "No, no, he's right. It was very inconsiderate. We should have thought—"

Han swung back at his partner, now annoyed for real. "Oh, for Sith's sake! Now look what you've started, you big mop head."

Chewie held up his hairy mitts in supplication. "[I'm sorry, Princess. Don't worry. I still prefer that to all the arguing...]"

Burying her face in her hands, Leia's blush radiated so hot that Han began to worry about the bulkhead paint blistering. "—be more careful, Chewie. I promise. It's not fair to you—"

"Not fair?" Han stopped her while jabbing a thumb at the Wookiee. "You should _see_ what he's like with his wife whenever we make port on Kashyyyk. It's _awkward_!" With that he reached out to slide his arm around Leia's shoulders and pull her back, despite her new-found reluctance. "Come on. Don't pay any attention to him. I told you, he's a troublemaker. He's just teasing and you're not used to it yet."

"Still," she said in a quiet tone before risking a slanted look up at both of them. "It is a bit rude. You're a bad influence."

That made Han smile. If he knew Leia, she was already adapting. "I thought that's why you liked me."

"No, that's why you _think_ I like you. It's all still a mystery to me."

Chewie howled with laughter and Han shot him a dirty look as he nudged Leia's leg with his own. "Nice. So now you're trying to solve the mystery by snooping through my lockers?"

Tipping her head to give a very politic answer, she returned her attention to the remnants of her meal. "I wasn't snooping. I was researching. And you _did_ invite me…"

"Oh yeah, I guess I did. So, what did you find out?"

"Nothing much. You'll be happy to know that you remain a complete enigma." Leia made a fair attempt to keep her tone light, but failed at hiding her disappointment. This was an issue that still tended to make her pensive, and he supposed she had a right to be.

_She's accepted you without knowing anything, without any conditions. Maybe it's time you started showing a little faith in return._

Sighing, Han realized that maybe they'd reached that crossroads at last, and habit made him glance over to find Chewie watching him again, no doubt thinking the same thing.

"What do you want to know, Sweetheart? Ask me anything at all. I promise I won't get mad."

Looking genuinely surprised by his offer, she hesitated, which was understandable considering his usual reaction to personal questions. "Do you have any family?"

Although he'd suspected this might be one of her eventual questions, the fact it was first told him a great deal about where her thoughts had been dwelling. His first instinct was to say that Chewie was all the family he needed—it had been his pat answer for years—but she deserved the full truth. "Yeah, both parents are still around. A younger brother and sister. They're all on Corellia, but I cut ties a long time ago."

As she held his gaze in silence, he could see a glint of sorrow hers, some of it no doubt for his sake, but he knew she was also thinking of her own family—all those ties forever severed but not by choice. Then he watched the most subtle of changes come over her expression as her eyes flicked toward Chewbacca. "So you _weren't_ abandoned as an infant and raised by Wookiees?"

Letting loose a triumphant whoop, Han flopped his hand palm-up on the tabletop in front of his suddenly sour-looking co-pilot. "Pay up, Pal. I _told_ you the Kid couldn't keep his big trap shut."

"[Circumstantial at best. I'll need to see more proof.]" Sliding out from the table in avoidance, Chewbacca started collecting up their abandoned plates.

Leia's dark eyes were shifting from him to Chewie in angry disbelief, and then she shook her head. "A mystery to me…" Moving out of his reach and off the bench to stand, Leia then stopped there, both fists planted on her hips, while she waited for him with what he was pretty sure was the sort of mild outrage that she would gladly relinquish with a kiss—just another complicated step in the dance they'd started weeks ago.

"Aw, come on, Sweetheart," Han coaxed as he followed and got to his feet. Catching one of her hands, he used it to pull her up against him, assuming a close-dance position. "What I would've paid to see the look on your face when Luke told you that…"

"Well, it certainly explained a lot," she protested in her own defense. Sparing a glance toward the galley to make sure Chewbacca was out of sight, she gripped his belt and jerked him closer, a not-so-subtle indication that most was forgiven.

Encouraged, he guided her toward the engineering station, dropped into the high-backed seat, and then tugged her toward him. She crawled up onto his lap to sit astride facing him, legs fitting beneath the armrests at his sides while her hands came to rest on his shoulders. This was a favorite spot for them since it was more comfortable than the acceleration couch, and it left him with a lot of options, including a promising view as he eased a finger under the collar of her loose shirt. "I was nineteen when Chewie's family took me in, if that counts for anything."

Leia swatted his hand away like a coquettish date, unwilling to let him distract her—not when she was finally getting answers. Leaning further back on his knees, she laced her fingers behind his neck. "After you were kicked out of the Academy…?"

"A little while after, yeah."

"That was right around the same time you suddenly started appearing on the Imperial records…"

_She's circling in like a prowling pantera on a scent trail._

His hesitation was pure instinct, as was his tendency to deflect at all costs, but he forced himself to relax. What harm could come now from her knowing the truth? "Yeah."

"'Han' is a common enough Corellian name so I imagine you didn't bother changing that…but 'Solo' isn't. That would explain why you're not in any records from the Academy… Solo, as in 'alone'… You couldn't have come up with something a little less obvious?" That last comment was said with a teasing smile.

"I was nineteen. It sounded cool."

Giving a little shake of her head, as though she might never understand testosterone, Leia waited a beat before voicing the obvious follow-up. "Will you tell me your real name?"

Aware of the door he was about to open, Han swallowed. "Kuat."

The name almost sounded foreign to him—it had been so long since he'd felt any connection to it.

"Kuat," she echoed, as if needing a moment to let that bit of knowledge soak in, to let it bounce around in her brain a little as she recalibrated her understanding of who he was. Then other associations began clicking into place, and he could read it on her face as easily as on a comp screen. He might have laughed were it not so serious.

"Kuat…Wait! _The_ Kuats, as in the Kuat Drive Shipyards?" Eyes growing wider, she took his silent inaction for an affirmative and sat up straighter on his lap. "Goddess, _that's_ what Chewie meant? _That's_ how you knew about the blind spot on the star destroyers…?"

"Leia, I know what you're thinking and you might as well forget about it. We disowned each other a long time ago. There's no use getting your hopes up."

She opened her mouth to no doubt voice a protest at his conclusion, then halted as if maybe realizing he was right, and closed it as she reconsidered.

While Han knew it wasn't necessary, he added in a quiet tone: "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell High Command. It's none of their damned business."

Her response was just as quiet but a clear reaffirmation. "Don't worry about that. This was just for me."

A corner of his mouth eased up into a fond grin. Leia could keep a secret better than most, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be pulling up his real name in a datapad search the instant she had five minutes to herself—_that_ was what made her who she was.

"What happened…?"

Releasing a sigh, he ran his hands along the sides of her thighs as he surrendered to the inevitable. Then again, as one of her hands began working its way through his hair, he couldn't imagine a more pleasant way to be interrogated. "What, the Academy or the family?"

"Whatever you want to tell me."

It was funny—now that he'd committed to this, he found himself wanting to tell her more. "I was a massive disappointment to the family. They were grooming me to take over the business, but I had no interest in sitting behind a desk. I wanted to fly."

Her smile was so beautiful that it was almost enough to make him forget what they were talking about. Why, in all the hells of Kessel, had it taken them so long to reach this point?

"It's in your blood."

"Yeah, but they didn't see it that way. I was shipped off to the Academy to drill some discipline into me. Sure, I got to fly a lot, but I did some really dumb stuff, too, and I never got into much trouble for it. Then I started moving up through the ranks faster than my buddies, getting cushy assignments or stuck behind desks half the time."

Nodding in understanding, she was likely familiar with just how much influence the owners of the largest single military contractor could have within the Imperial Forces. "They were pulling strings for your advancement."

"They had my whole life mapped out for me: graduate an officer, get some experience under my belt, come back a hero, take over the firm. Hell, they even had a wife lined up for me and announced our engagement before I was done with cadet training."

He felt Leia twitch, as if she'd only just joined the conversation. Something in her reaction—Shock? Jealousy? Insecurity?—made him groan in delayed understanding. For some dumb reason he'd thought she was immune to that sort of thing, but he should have known better. Not only was she was still very new at this game, but she hadn't exactly picked the most transparent partner or straightforward situation, either. Just because she avoided the topic of his past conquests like the Emperor avoided press conferences didn't mean she was free of doubts about herself or him.

_As if I've even _looked_ at another woman in the past year…_

"Engaged?" Leia's question was timid, as if she couldn't help herself and yet didn't want to hear the answer.

"It was a long time ago, Leia. Her family had a lot of connections, too. We knew each other, but it wouldn't have worked for long. We were just kids."

When she kept staring at some spot on his shirt, mind obviously far away, he waited a few moments before bouncing a leg to jostle her out of it. "Trust me, Your Worship, she wasn't my type. I like 'em short and feisty."

Too late Han realized his remark wasn't the best compliment he'd ever paid her if the change in her expression was anything to go by, but it did work to break her spell.

"You drive me crazy."

"I know."

Shaking her head, appearing to fluctuate between irritation and curiosity, she conceded defeat and picked at the open collar of his shirt. "Go on. So you rebelled…"

"I guess so, that's a nice way to put it."

"How would you put it?"

"I committed treason and sabotage." At her renewed look of shock, he shrugged again, feeling his voice grow more serious as the memories still bore a bitter aftertaste. "My fifth assignment was on Kashyyyk, commanding a fighter escort. I watched the slavers in action and went a little crazy. Shot up some empty transports arriving for the latest shipment. That finally got everybody's attention and I was drummed out..."

"I'm amazed you weren't put into shackles yourself, or worse."

"The best lawyers a family could buy, plus a hell of a lot of bribes."

Leia just stared at him, as if struggling to absorb it all. While she would have been too young to remember the incident, he knew she would have heard of it—the government-sponsored slave trade had not stopped, but that was the first time the dark business was brought to the public's awareness. Although the cries of outrage were quickly silenced and the riots crushed, it had fed the surge in Rebel recruitment and activity throughout the Empire.

"The classic spoiled rich kid," she said under her breath, a clear hint of incredulity in her tone.

Han snorted. "Do I look rich to you?"

"No…but I told you there was more to you than money." Her palm pressed against his chest, as if touching a cherished heirloom.

"Lucky guess."

Leia's smile was indulgent, content to allow him this particular delusion. "Is that when you met Chewie?"

"Nah, I didn't run into him until a little later, after I was out on my own. I got my first job as a red-eye-shift co-pilot on one of those big Guild freighters flying out of Coronet." His gaze settled without seeing on a spot over her shoulder as he recollected. "Chewie was part of the crew. We were on this one flight out of Commenor when the drive conked out and we were jumped by pirates. It was an inside job because they were waiting for us. We were taken away to be sold as slaves, but we managed to get away." He paused and ran his hand along the outside of her thigh as he blinked back to the present. "He's been my shadow ever since. Can't get rid of him."

"[I heard that,]" Chewbacca interrupted as he emerged from the galley, a steaming mug of in one of his furry mitts. "[You say 'get away' like it was nothing special, but you saved more than half the crew from a miserable fate that day.]"

Han swiveled the chair to face his friend. "Yeah, but you're the only one who decided it was worth a Life Debt."

"[Maybe I was the only one who realized you _needed_ a shadow.]"

As her eyes moved back and forth between him and the Wookiee, Leia seemed to be seeing them both in a new light.

_Great, that's all she needs—more hero talk._

He suspected she already had some grandiose ideas of who he was, things he was pretty sure he couldn't live up to. "Knock it off, Chewie, before she starts thinking I'm noble or something."

"[Don't blame me for that.]" With his usual aplomb, Chewbacca wished them a good night and headed for his cabin.

Han looked back at her, determined to make a preemptive strike. "I just saw an opportunity and I took it—nothing noble about it."

Leia tapped a fingertip on his chest, well prepared for his dodge. "But you acted, and that's more than most people would do."

"I'm no hero, Leia. I've done some things I'm not proud of…"

"Maybe. We all have… But I don't think that cancels out the good. I think your heart's in the right place."

"Whatever you say."

She gave him a look of exasperation, and then amusement. "That's right. I like it when you agree with me."

Spotting his opportunity, Han tipped his chin up toward her and dropped his voice lower than the deck plates. "Tell me what else you like."

As a little smile animated the corners of her mouth, she hopped on his train of thought. "You know what I like."

"I like it more when you say it."

Leia's playful gaze lingered on his for a tantalizing moment before she leaned forward to press her lips near his ear, her breath tickling his skin, making more than just his short hairs rise. Then she whispered something that would have made a once-proper princess burn brighter than a solar flare.

_She's right. You _are_ a bad influence._


	20. The accident

**Chapter 20 — The accident**

Leia hadn't meant to do it. It just sort of happened.

Since their voyage began, she tried to dedicate a couple of hours each day to Alliance work—or as much as she could manage with the limited resources available. The research helped ease any lingering guilt over her absence, it gave her a definable purpose, and it kept her from losing all sense of reality on a trip that at times seemed a bit too good to be true.

Dressed in Han's white shirt and a pair of cut-offs, she sat propped up amongst the bank of pillows in their bunk, datapad and stylus in hand, with her bare knees arched over and resting on Han's convenient legs. He was reclined at an angle from her, ankles crossed and dressed just enough to preserve his modesty, what little he still possessed—in this case a pair of his black undershorts.

Leia had determined to work through the afternoon, even after Han announced shortly after his arrival that he was giving up with repairs for the day, and then joined her on the bunk with his own datapad. Now he was proving to be a mostly innocent distraction as he made the occasional thoughtful grunt or ran an absent-minded hand along the closest patch of exposed thigh.

She tried to block him out as she scrolled through the latest business news out of Coruscant. Most of the media channels offered nothing for her purposes, but finding cash and supplies for a burgeoning rebellion required intuition, patience and curiosity. Although no slouch with the intuition, and she freely admitted to needing practice with the patience, a sense of curiosity was something she had in excess.

The quiet of the cabin was interrupted yet again by an amused sniff from beside her, making Leia glance up. Han was reading the schematics of the latest luxury star-yachts, or at least that was what he'd claimed when he climbed into the bunk some time ago. Now she suspected his reading material had changed—although, if anyone could find something funny about the innards of a starship, it would probably be Han. For a moment she considered challenging him, but then settled instead for a warm smile while rubbing the sole of a foot along the top of his shin before refocusing on the datapad screen.

_Mind over matter, Organa. Mind over matter._

She was onto a lead. Stock prices of a certain manufactured weapons system computer chip were flat-lined due to a sudden surplus. The part was a vital component of many of the older ships the Rebellion used, and surplus was the magic word. The trouble on the market was due to a recent announcement from Chempat Engineered Defenses of an upgrade, something that threatened to make obsolete all the current Imperial contracts, as well as bringing to a halt any other ongoing negotiations for new contracts both public and private. Thus third-party suppliers found themselves looking to dump their stockpiles just to make room for the new.

It was a coincidence that Chempat was jointly owned by Corellian Engineering Corporation and Kuat Drive Yards.

Surplus. Computer chips. Chempat. Corell. Kuat.

It was a pure coincidence, really.

Giving Han another quick glance, as if he might sense where her research had taken her, she looked back down at her screen, but was a bit unprepared for the sheer volume of material that came up under the name Kuat. It required the judicial application of several filters to eliminate competition and technical data, irrelevant business and political records, and any references more recent than a decade ago, until what was left were public relations announcements, mainstream news articles, gossip columns, and opinion pieces prior to the emergence of 'Han Solo' on the scene.

Sucking on the tip of her stylus for a moment, unable to think of a legitimate Alliance reason for exploring old history, Leia admitted to herself that she just wanted to know, to piece together some of those missing pages in Han's life. Ever since learning his real name and history the day before, she'd been unable to think of much else, but the last thing she wanted to do was be obvious in her investigation. Maybe if she snuck in a little now, just enough to satisfy some of that curiosity, then she could let it go and get back to her work. Besides, she reasoned, it wasn't so much an urge to dig into his past as it was a desire to find holo-pics from when he was younger. That seemed an innocent enough goal.

It was a little extra work, but she narrowed down the search until she was left with a string of flattened images, culled from public archives, press releases, and official announcements. Due to the prominence of his family, there was a lot to peruse, but she began cycling through it.

There was an image of a teen-aged Han, dressed in an Academy uniform stripped of insignia, surrounded by what must have been family and powerful attorneys as they hurried from a courtroom in an attempt to duck the media recorders. There was also a series of other images taken during the court martial, and in them his expressions ranged from insolent to angry to miserable. Clearly the incident had played a greater role in making him who he was today than he would ever admit—maybe that was the moment the cynicism had gained a foothold?

There was a formal portrait of Han, complete with close-cropped hair and the high-tab collared grey tunic of a new Academy cadet, his look serious, with a straight nose and unscarred chin. He seemed so dissimilar, so very handsome in a different way and younger in that moment in time than she had been when they'd met. There was so much promise in his appearance, hints at the type of man he might have become before fate had intervened, and she couldn't help feeling grateful that his career with the Empire had ended there, almost before it had begun—before it had tainted him the way it had so many others.

There was an informal shot of an adolescent Han and what must have been his siblings because of the shared resemblances, lounging around in a luxurious yet comfortable living room, probably shot in their family home—he was young enough to be almost unrecognizable except for the smile and eyes. A keen curiosity shone there, the sort of youthful excitement that made her beam in empathic response, and despite her better judgment she couldn't help wondering if some day Han might have a son to resemble the boy in the image, and if that son would have any of his better characteristics, or if he'd be more like his mother…

Leia closed her eyes for a moment, torn by her stray thought and the sense of longing and loss that seemed to grow with each day as those sorts of ideas kept slipping past her control.

_You can't afford to think like that. You don't even know if he _wants_ children, let alone with you. And in any case, you can't fight a war with a baby on your hip. Table that whole topic and move on._

She moved on and pulled up the next image.

There was another teen-aged Han, flashing a cocky smile and thumbs-up from the open cockpit of some Kuat-built star-fighter now long obsolete. He looked so dashing, so sure of himself, and she realized she would have fallen for him no matter what his age or her own. Something in that smile, that confidence, made her melt down like a fusion core.

There was Han, bare-chested on a tropical beach with another young man, both clowning around for the recorder. He was sporting an embarrassing attempt at a moustache. She shook her head with a grin, glad he'd abandoned the look; her preference was clean-shaven, or maybe just the hint of a beard to make things interesting. Definitely "scruffy-looking," though.

There was a post-scar Han, dressed in an impeccable formal civilian suit, posed with his arm around a tall, slender blonde woman dressed in a stunning red gown with gold highlights. Her golden hair hung down in a cascade of gentle waves, and she wore a radiant smile while Han's was a bit more enigmatic, leaving it easy to read into it whatever one wanted to.

Feeling as if she'd just climbed to the highest peak of a mountain range, where the rarified air lacked enough oxygen to sustain life for long, Leia stared at the image and discovered too late that she wasn't prepared for the string of emotions the image generated. But why should she be surprised? Hadn't this been her goal from the start, to satisfy that awakened craving to know not only what he had looked like, but what _she_ had looked like?

And Leia _was_ fascinated, both by the young woman and by that inscrutable expression of Han's. Was he happy? Had he loved her or was it all arranged against his will? Although he'd said that they knew one another, he hadn't indicated how well or in what context. Did he still think of her? Compare her?

The blonde was stunning, displaying the sort of elegance the Central Core touted as the epitome of beauty, possessing all those physical attributes that Leia often felt she lacked—long legs and svelte height and ultra-feminine grace. Any man would have envied his place beside her. Here was a woman who had never clambered around inside the greasy service pit of a star freighter; never plumbed the disgusting depths of a garbage chute on the _Death Star_; never tramped through the mud and slush and underbrush of countless backwater planets wearing stained coveralls and ill-fitting uniforms while in search of safe havens and strategic vantage points. Leia almost felt as though they were members of different species, they were so disparate. How could she even remotely compete with that? What could have been bad enough to make Han walk away from that sort of perfection? What would it take to make him leave her as well?

_Stop it! Stop doing this!_

She hadn't realized how tight her grip was on the stylus until it nearly bent in half.

_What were you thinking? What sort of crazy, childish, self-flagellating impulse made you—?_

A large hand alighted on her knee. "Hey, get a load of—"

Letting out a little cry that sounded very much like, "Eeep!," the stylus flipped out of Leia's fingers to land near Han's feet as she bobbled the datapad with the other hand.

Although Han had been absorbed and amused by whatever he was reading, in an instant all of his attention was locked on her, his look concerned. "You okay?"

Struggling to recover, she rolled onto a hip and scrunched over to retrieve the stylus. "I'm fine." Daring to sneak a peek as she straightened back up, she saw his disbelief.

"You just jumped like a womprat on a hot engine cowling."

She had no idea what that meant. "You startled me."

"I _startled_ you?"

"I was concentrating." Leia frowned. What the hell had she been thinking, looking at those pictures? She _knew_ better—that some things were better left in the past, left long buried where they belonged. As if she'd needed one more thing to torment her.

"Now you're blushing. Are you reading one of those trashy novels again?"

"What? I don't read trashy novels!"

"Oh, yes you do. I found one archived on that datapad after that mission to Crytor."

Opening and then closing her mouth, she settled for an incensed glare. "That wasn't trashy. It was…informative."

Han rolled his eyes. "Well, that explains a few things. And it _was_ trashy, because I read it, too."

Now she just blinked at him, unsure of whether to cackle, ask after his favorite part, or demand an explanation of his "few things" comment.

"What do you need romance for, now that you've got me?"

Giving it up as a lost cause, Leia burst out laughing. Here she was, sealed up for a month in a stuffy, old, malfunctioning merchant star freighter with a sometimes tetchy smuggler and his meddlesome Wookiee sidekick, reduced to survival rations and his cast-off clothing. She couldn't think of anything _less_ romantic…and yet here she was, thoroughly enjoying his company. Reaching out, she patted his hand where it rested on her knee. "You're all I need, Flyboy."

As that hand began to glide down the slope of her thigh, he waggled an eyebrow at her. "Good to hear. So read something to me. Maybe we'll find it…informative."

Leia's expression fell as her mind scrambled. It was just her luck that she didn't happen to have anything erotic loaded at the moment, and of course he wouldn't let the topic drop. Maybe she could make up something on the fly?

"Come on, let me see…"

He made a grab for the reader, but she jerked it out of his reach, her flush resurging. "No, really, it's just research. What were you going to tell me?"

His gaze turned shrewd once more. Why did she keep thinking she could fool this man?

"You're hiding something. If _that_ wasn't it, then…" As if a circuit breaker had been tripped, Han's hazel eyes softened in sudden understanding as his gaze flicked down toward the datapad, then back up at her. Half expecting him to be angry—the old Han would have been irked—instead he just sighed and held out his closest arm in invitation. "Ahhh, I think I know what this is about. Come here."

Sparing a moment to debate whether moving into his embrace meant owning up to fact she'd been caught, she decided there was little percentage in avoiding the facts. She abandoned the datapad—well out of his reach—before pivoting around to recline alongside him. Grateful as he pulled her in closer, she drew up her knees and curled against him.

His hand smoothed over her hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "I told you, it was a long time ago. You've got nothing to worry about."

Head resting on his shoulder, she stayed quiet for a long moment, contemplating the texture of his chest beneath her fingertips. "I don't know why I let it get to me. I'm not jealous…"

"Leia…I can't change the past, but I won't apologize for it, either. All I can say is that I didn't know you yet."

He couldn't have said it any better and Leia closed her eyes, tipping her face deeper into his neck, breathing in that unique odor that was Han, with maybe just a hint of engine lubricant.

_Sometimes he really does have his moments. _

"You had a life before we met, and I don't expect you to apologize or make excuses for that. I _know_ better." She fumbled for words, a problem that rarely plagued her. "It was none of my business."

"Nah, it was natural. Hell, I would've wondered what was wrong if you _weren't _a little curious. I mean, I know _you_ probably had a favorite suitor or two back in the day—some mealy mouthed inbred prince with mommy issues and—"

Leia delivered a stiff finger under his ribs until she was satisfied with his yelp. Attempting to protect his flank, Han pinned her arms to her sides by tugging her closer. Revenge dispensed, she relaxed against him once more, admitting he was right; it was probably just human nature.

"There was really only one while I was at the university, but we couldn't agree on a major issue, and besides, father didn't like him very much…"

"Would he have liked me?"

Drawing away just far enough so she could meet Han's eyes, she wondered at his sincerity. There had been times when she'd speculated the same thing: what would have been Bail Organa's reaction to his adopted daughter consorting with a smuggler? She supposed he would have disapproved for the obvious reasons, but maybe he would have come around after seeing some of the same qualities that had won her over. It was all moot now in any case, and dwelling on what might have been brought about an ache she preferred to avoid. Instead, acting on a playful impulse, she gave Han a deliberate once-over while biting her lower lip. "I don't know, but Rieekan seems to like you for some reason, so that would have been a point in your favor."

Han grunted, sounding unconvinced. "Well, that's something."

"Although he might have ordered you thrown in the stockade for a week for deflowering his only daughter…"

That comment got the desired effect—Han smirked like the inveterate scoundrel he was. Abandoning any pretense of work, he laid his own datapad off to the side and reached over to toy with the opening of her borrowed shirt. "It would have been worth it. Anyway, I bet he had a lot of trouble keeping you locked up and out of trouble."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was the model of obedience and virtue."

"Riiiiight," he chuckled.

"All right, I might have snuck out a couple of times, but honestly, I never got into any real trouble. I was already too busy with bigger things…"

Not arguing with that, all too familiar with her dedication, his arm shifted around her shoulders so his fingers could dip and clear away her hair to expose a swath of skin underneath where he placed a lingering kiss. "That was one hopeful beau, and then there's Luke…" he prompted, bringing their conversation back around.

Maybe he'd meant to sound more casual, as though mentioning his best friend and potential rival were an afterthought, but it was obvious he was testing the waters and probably wondering how much things would change once she returned to the Fleet alone. Giving him another assessing look, she realized too late that Han was well-versed in jealousy, and with good reason; for more than once she'd purposefully caused that suspicion, like that kiss in the med center on Hoth. Sometimes it had been for fun, but more often than not it was out of spite or revenge, and she felt a flash of remorse for teasing Han like that—for toying with both men's emotions. "Luke is a close friend."

"Yes. He is…"

Annoyed all of a sudden by the hint of jealousy in his response, she stiffened and let out a deep breath. Her fear and worry over the welfare of Luke haunted her every day, and yet to think that Han still harbored suspicion or resentment over that, despite everything the two of them had been through and shared since Hoth, left her at a loss. Did he really still doubt her feelings? "But it's _different_ with Luke. I can't explain how. Are you telling me I can't have male friends anymore?"

Looking a bit surprised and frustrated by her leap in logic, Han shook his head. "No, of course not. Look, my point is that I can't just make the past go away—Sith knows, I've tried! But it's part of the package and you're just going to have to trust me. I'm here with _you_, and I don't want to be anywhere else. That's what counts."

Although tempted to ask just how much longer that might be, Leia had enough sense to stop before their conversation disintegrated into a real argument. Learning to spot and avoid the pitfalls and snags in a relationship, one at a time, she knew he was right. "I know…and I do love you, even if you are a big nerfherder sometimes."

Absolutely deserving the sudden onslaught of tickling fingers that followed, Leia gave a little shriek and tried to escape, but Han was faster and showed no mercy. There was a short frenzy of laughter and tangled limbs, and she was breathless long before he managed to pin her down, his hands trapping her wrists above her head, his magnificent body pressing her down into the mattress in a most wonderful way. The flimsy fabric of his shorts did little to hide his enthusiasm over winning their tussle, and she moved the only way left to her, tilting her hips up to tease him as her own passion flared—he might have gained the upper hand, but she wasn't without options.

_Funny how these tussles always end up this way._

Han groaned as he took advantage of her incapacitation to grind his hips into hers. Reserving one hand to keep her arms immobile, his other began working her shirt up and out of the way while his mouth seemed everywhere at once, wet and hot and relentless. "I'm going to ravish you like they do in those stories of yours, Princess. I'm going to do things to you that would earn me another week in the stockade. I'm going to make you—"

Knowing those were no idle threats, she gasped at the spike of excitement that coursed through her, and with the last of her wits she threw an urgent glance at the unlocked hatchway to the bunkroom. "Han, we should—"

"This'll be fast, Your Highnessness."

Too late, her body arched up as his mouth worked a nipple to peak hardness, and without thinking she threw a leg around his lean hips. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Admit it, you like the idea we might get caught…" His words were muffled as his lips moved down the valley between her breasts, and then continued lower as she loosened her hold with a whimper. Guessing she was past the point of stopping him, he released her and moved lower, easing off her shorts with a deliberate slowness that made her squirm. He couldn't have been more right as she gripped the edge of the bunk with one hand while the other combed through his soft hair, guiding his travels—the last thing she wanted to do was intervene.

"You like the danger."

_Goddess help me, but I do. I really do._


	21. The shift

**Chapter 21 — The shift**

Leia watched as her home rose up in the view screen, more vivid and beautiful than ever—the breathtaking sapphire blues, the emerald greens, the golden deserts and ice-white swirls of glacial ranges, all wrapped in gossamer clouds—but her heart felt like it was clamped in a vice.

_No._

Lurching toward the image, desperate, she wanted nothing more than to go home. She'd known this game was deadly serious, known the stakes were high, known the risks. Gambling with her life had seemed a fair price…but never this. She didn't want to play this game anymore. She no longer felt brave or noble or mature. She felt very small.

_Father._

Wanting nothing more than to go home, she'd tried to outmaneuver them, tried to lie, tried everything. Now she just wanted it all to stop.

_No._

Large hands gripped her shoulders—strong, irresistible.

_No._

The hands pulled her back, holding her in place, but they weren't the cold, inhuman hands she'd come to fear so much; they weren't the black leather-encased gloves of a living demon, but rather flesh and familiar, and the chest she butted up against wore inflexible body armor, but gone was the overwhelming presence of threat. Missing was the steady, terrible, never-ending death rattle of a mechanical respirator.

Confused by the change, as if losing her place in a script she knew by heart, she twisted around to face her captor, but it wasn't the nightmare mask she expected, or the skull-like features of the Imperial governor who had brought them within agonizing sight of her planet. It was Han, as he would look when he emerged out of a smoke- and laser-filled corridor, wearing stormtrooper armor, part of the rescue team come to save her…but he was early.

_Han?_

_I'm right here, Sweetheart. You're safe._

A surge of relief ran through her to see him here now, so striking and brave, and her heart soared. Of course he would help.

_Please, Han…You can make them stop! Oh Han, look!_

Turning back, she wanted to show him her home, how beautiful it was, a gem suspended on a backdrop of richest black shimmersilk. She wanted to share it with him, but it was all gone, all of it: the empty command center of the _Death Star_; the view screen; her home.

_No._

Instead she was looking out at a sky bathed in reds and blues, a mighty sunset with bright silvery disks of twin moons slowly rising through the fantastic palate of colors. Still behind her, Han's arms folded around her middle, they were standing on a wide stone balcony as the cool autumn night air carried the rich earthy scent from a grove of trees that lined the grounds; it blended with his warmth and musk, filling her senses, soothing her.

_Where are we?_

But she knew before he answered. Having visited several times both as daughter of the Viceroy of Alderaan and as a senator, she recognized the moons and the distinctive constellations of the sister planets of Corellia.

_Home._

Turning in his arms, needing to see his face, Leia found the younger Han gone, replaced by an older version, somehow older than she knew him, but still just as handsome.

_Is this _our_ home?_

The words sounded strange to her, even as she said them, the idea that this was theirs together and that she could have another.

He didn't reply. Instead, he kissed her forehead.

_I have to go away for awhile._

_No. Don't leave me._

_You'll be okay, Leia. You're the strongest person I know._

She shook her head. How could that be possible, when it was his presence that made this peaceful scene so complete?

_I'm not strong. I just don't know what _else_ to do._

_You will._

_When will you return?_

Again he left her question hanging, offering only a wistful smile. Why wouldn't he answer her? As his arms loosened and he stepped away, the scarlet hues of sunset bathed his features, seeming to bleed down from the sky to engulf him. The night air made her shiver as his warmth faded with him.

_Han._

The acute ache from his sudden disappearance was so powerful that Leia awoke with his name still on her lips. Heart racing, she opened her eyes but found herself facing the familiar red-tinted, dimly lit, featureless wall of their bunk bulkhead. Lying on her stomach, one arm clutching an extra pillow at her side, she could feel Han beneath the covers to her other side, his outstretched arm across her lower back and a long leg intertwined with hers. The sensation was calming, as if he'd anchored her to the mattress to keep her from straying too far, even in her dreams. As if she would ever want to.

The cabin was dark and still, the only sounds the dull thrum of the sub-light engines and Han's regular breathing near her ear; both sounds were reassuring and had become a welcome soundtrack to her life, a comforting background unnoticed now unless she made a conscious effort. But the idea of the silence returning increased her lingering fears of what would happen in a few days once the hyperdrive was repaired. Trying to dispel the disturbing feeling, she moved around on the bunk and rolled onto her back, slipping her legs free from his and overlapping the arm across her belly with her own.

_If I'm so strong, then why am I so scared?_

As her hand covered his, she allowed her fingertips to trace the roadmap of veins and tendons there, picturing them in her mind with ease—truth be told, she'd memorized his hands a long time ago. During the times when she'd feared looking into his eyes, feared losing herself in them, it had been easier to study those instead, watching while he worked and relaxed, all the time wondering how they might feel on her, how they would touch her. Now that she knew those answers, the thought of losing what she'd so recently discovered made her alternately bordering on tears and filled with a fierce determination to prevent what seemed inevitable.

The old Jedi Order had believed in fate, in submitting to a destiny that appeared unavoidable, and years ago in her studies Leia had concluded that this rationale was one of their greatest weaknesses and a major contributor to their downfall. When she'd joined her father's cause and taken up arms to fight what so many others considered a lost cause, that same spirit had buoyed her through times when naysayers argued it couldn't be done, when things had seemed written in durasteel; those negative words just made her fight all the harder.

_I'm no Jedi and it's not over yet. I'm not about to let him go without a fight._

Her fingertips slid to the underside of his wrist, gliding along until they found and rested upon the strong pulse point in the recess of tendons there, and she imagined her heart beating in sync with it. Even lost in deep sleep, Han exuded life and strength, often serving as a beacon in her darkest hours, in his own unique way lighting a path whether she had wanted help or not. Through everything that had happened since Alderaan, through all their bickering and denials and now their renaissance, he had restored and revived her.

_If I get any more maudlin, I could just quit this job and become a holo-romance writer. The hours would certainly be better._

Rolling her eyes, she let out a sigh as the absurd thought chased away some of the bad vibes still lingering from the disorienting dream. The images were already fading away like most dreams did, but there _had_ been parts of it she liked very much and she tried to recall those now. Maybe if she relaxed enough, she could go back to that place…

Turning toward Han and switching positions to slide an arm over his broad back and a leg over his longer one, she allowed herself to feel a little possessive, too. He stirred, his face burrowing into the pillow as he gave a muffled grunt, but then slumbered on. Closing her eyes, she let the hum of the ship around them lull her back to sleep.


	22. The rematch

**Chapter 22 — The rematch**

It was morning of the twenty-sixth day into their sub-light trip. Seated alone in the cockpit, boredom and curiosity had caused Han to run a search of the ship's logs for any history of prior visits to Bespin. Although he'd never been there, it was no surprise when the old logs failed to call up a single entry prior to his ownership; the mining colony was too remote, the _Falcon_ wasn't rigged for hauling gases, and the planet held little attraction other than tibanna gas and some limited tourist potential.

_Could be worse. We could be stranded in the Central Core and headed for someplace where everybody knows at least one of us on sight. Consider yourself lucky._

Switching off the comp screen, he sank back into his seat and let his eyes drift up to study the large planet now starting to fill the view of the forward canopy. From this distance he could make out the never-ending swirl of gaseous clouds, a palette of reds and oranges and every shade in between. They would arrive tomorrow, their long odyssey nearly at an end, but the fact brought him no joy. He had a multitude of reasons for wishing they could just keep flying: trepidation over seeing Lando Calrissian and begging a favor; dread of the inevitable confrontation he would soon have with Jabba the Hutt and begging yet another favor; dismay that his spell of uninterrupted time with Leia was about to end; and worst of all, the gut fear that theirs would be a final goodbye.

_You could keep on flying. Stop just long enough to stock up and fix that blasted motivator unit, and then steal the princess away from the rest of this ungrateful universe. Disappear beyond the fringe of the Outer Rim where they wouldn't know and they wouldn't care. We could both start over again. _

The fantasy brought a wistful smile to his face, and if he'd thought for a moment that she'd go for it—if she'd be willing to run away from a fight for which she'd already sacrificed so much…

_I'd do it in a heartbeat, Princess. In a heartbeat._

Something had happened to him on this trip, something substantial. The idealistic youth crushed by a meddling and controlling family, the Academy, and the brutal realities of an unsheltered life—the dreamer he'd recognized in Luke—had been resurrected, and for the first time since his abrupt introduction to adulthood, he'd found a reason to look toward the future, beyond just the next run or the next score. Instead he caught himself contemplating all sorts of crazy ideas, like finding a home to share with Leia, starting a family, and enjoying a long life together. They were insane thoughts, not at all compatible with the reality of their situations, and yet he didn't have the heart to squash them. They were vague but tantalizing dreams in his mind, so fragile that they needed protection from his own cynicism.

As if summoned by his desires—her timing always seemed in tune with his—the cockpit hatch whisked open and Leia stepped in. Dressed in the usual assortment of his clothing, her hair was up in her 'style of the day,' this one a high wispy pile far more complicated than it appeared at first glance. As she moved closer to bend down and kiss him, those plush lips lingered just long enough to stir his interest before she handed him a warm mug.

"Last of the tea, Flyboy."

The kaffe had run out a week ago, as had the reconstituted blue milk and a variety of other luxuries he'd normally taken for granted. The fact they were now running out of the basics was the only good reason their trip was about to end.

"Thanks, Sweetheart."

The princess moved around to stand behind his seat, and Han felt her warm hands begin to rub his shoulders and neck, thumbs working into his muscles like he'd taught her, finding the knots and kneading away the tension that seemed to plague him lately. Taking a sip of the tea and then allowing his head to fall back as her fingers worked their magic, he noticed that her eyes weren't on him but rather were staring out toward the planet in their path, the symbol of the end of their voyage. He didn't need to ask how she felt about their imminent arrival—her look said it all.

The mood between them had begun to shift again over the last few days as the euphoria of their love affair had taken on a more serious tone, mellowing and deepening like the swelling harmony of a symphony as they approached the coda of their journey together. While the pleasure was heady and remarkable, there was a new sense of desperation seeping in, as if they were preparing on a subconscious level for the worst, and sometimes he was surprised to find them not speaking at all, but just communicating through touch and a shared closeness, as though words no longer seemed adequate. Never having felt this sort of connection with anyone before, he didn't understand it, doubted he could describe it if he tried, and yet the very thought that he might lose it now made him almost frantic.

Her fingers slid up his neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp. "Chewie says he's going back to his cabin to read the latest Flash Banigan novel on the datapad, and he has no intention of coming out until lunchtime."

"There's a new one already?" Chuckling, he was glad when her dark eyes dropped down to meet his. "He loves that series. It's embarrassing…But that means we've got the ship to ourselves…"

"Hmmmm."

She offered no resistance as he caught one of her hands and, holding his mug off to the other side to avoid spilling, he drew her around beside him. He eased her over the arm of his chair so that she slipped into his lap crossways. It wasn't a great way to fly a ship, but wasn't that what the nav computer was for? Wiggling until she was comfortable, Leia leaned against his chest while he brought his mug back up to take another drink, then he surrendered it when she indicated she wanted to share.

Both hands now free, Han slipped one beneath her borrowed shirt to smooth over the skin he'd already memorized, cupping and caressing a breast. As anticipated, her body's response was instant, her moan warm on his neck, making his own skin tingle.

"Han…" She said his name in a way that made him pause; it wasn't the breathy excitement he came to expect whenever he touched her this way, but the sort of serious pitch that warned a discussion was looming and she wasn't to be easily distracted. Rather than come right out with it, though, she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

Realizing he needed to change his approach, Han eased his hand back down her side, offering comfort. "You okay?"

"No."

Han tipped his head to let his cheek rest against her forehead.

_Well, at least she doesn't hold back anymore. At least now you know what you're dealing with, even if you still don't have any solutions. _

"It's tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yeah…It'll be mid-morning ship time, and early morning in Cloud City when we make planet-fall."

Nearly empty mug cradled in her graceful hands, Leia drew a deep breath. "I'm afraid for you… I'm afraid for us."

Han stayed silent for a long moment, restraining the urge to blurt out his first cynical thought: _I told you so_. They'd both walked into this situation all too aware of reality; they knew this trip would end soon enough and they would again face an uncertain future, but with so much more to lose than before. At one time Han would have scoffed and questioned his sanity, but the man he was today didn't regret an instant because she was worth all the trouble of the past, worth all the potential problems to come.

"Don't worry. We'll be okay. You'll see."

Leia's head rocked on his shoulder. "Something's wrong…"

Was she _trying_ to jinx them? "Come on, Leia…"

"I don't know what it is. It just doesn't feel right." she finished, her voice hushed as it glided like the finest shimmersilk against his flesh.

"We don't have a choice," he reminded her in a weak attempt to lift her spirits. Lando might not have much incentive to do him any favors, but neither could he have enough hatred to do them actual harm, and Han had to believe that. "It'll be fast, just long enough to fix the hyperdrive and restock. There won't be enough time to get into trouble."

The little sound that came from the vicinity of his neck sounded a lot like a derisive laugh, and he could almost read her mind.

_Trouble tended to find _us_. _

"Right…I just wish…"

"We could keep flying?"

Han didn't need to look to know she'd smiled; he'd caught her indulging in a fantasy. "Yes."

As his fingers stroked over the smooth skin of her back, he still marveled at the ability to touch her like this, his princess, without restraint whenever the mood struck. "Looks like maybe some irresponsibility's rubbed off on you."

"It's from hanging out with the wrong crowd."

"That's a real shame. I happen to like nice women."

"That isn't what I heard…"

"Rumors, Your Worship. Don't believe any of it. They were all good women before I got to them."

She gave an amused grunt as she finished off their tea and then passed the mug back. As he set it out of the way, her freed hand found a new purpose in fiddling with the front of his white work shirt, the contact of her fingers along his exposed skin just as electric now as the first time. Maybe that was the up-side of having waited so damned long to touch her? But it made what he had to say next all the more difficult.

"I imagine High Command's pretty worried about what happened to you. I'd better return you before they put a price on my head, too."

Her body stiffened in his arms and he hated the fact that he even had to bring it up, as if he'd just willed the official end to their long holiday. "That won't be necessary. I'll send an encrypted communiqué tomorrow to let them know I'm all right, and then we'll take care of your business without—"

"No, I should get you back. They'll need their—"

"Stop it!" The genuine anger she emitted was familiar, yet felt foreign after experiencing so little of it over the past few weeks. "Right now _you_ need me more and I'm going to help any way I can."

"And the best way you can help me is to stay clear of this. You'd be one less thing I have to worry about when I go in."

That was plainly the wrong tactic because she pushed away from his chest, dark eyes flashing, betraying what was going on behind that cool exterior. "I see. You don't want me there because I might get in the way, even though you have no backup and little expectation of success. You'd rather I go back to the Alliance where I can do nothing but worry, but at least it won't cramp your style. Am I right so far?"

This was an argument he knew neither of them could win, not like this, mixing emotions and logic when the two were incompatible. He couldn't blame her, though—the last thing he felt like being was rational. She didn't need to voice the rest of her thoughts because he could practically hear them: _When you go in there, do you have a plan for getting out?_

When he didn't respond, Leia looked away in irritation. In fact, she looked ready to climb out of his lap and leave the cockpit, but she didn't, and perhaps that was a greater testament to her commitment than anything. "I'm supposed to be there when you face Jabba. I can feel it."

It was bad enough having to listen to that sort of mumbo jumbo from Luke—the last thing he needed was to start hearing it from her, too. "Don't go turning into the Kid on me…"

"I'm serious. I have dreams…"

"Sweetheart, that's all they are—dreams. They don't mean anything. Besides, I've watched you have too many bad ones, and I'm not about to add any more."

Leia looked shocked at his revelation, anger forgotten. While he hadn't intended to tell her about the fact she'd awoken him numerous times, knowing it would embarrass her, it was out now and he anticipated what she would say next. Reaching up to touch her cheek, his thumb nudged her chin up a little. "Forget about it. Just tell me you have good ones once in a while, too, huh?"

Despite her embarrassment at what she clearly perceived as a weakness, and despite their inability to agree on the matter at hand, she gave him a little smile. "Sometimes."

"Any of them include me?" he prompted with his best dashing grin.

She looked torn between telling him what he wanted to hear, and her ingrained resolve to win. "Sometimes."

"Good. Keep those in mind and I'll be back before you know it," he said with a finality that meant the decision was already made.

"Han, this is _not_ settled."

"Yes, it is. Chewie feels the same way, so it's unanimous."

"That is _not_ unanimous!"

"You're still outvoted, Your Highnessness."

"But…I don't like it!"

"I don't expect you to. In fact, I'd be awfully disappointed if you did."

Still refusing to accept his pronouncement, Leia shook her head. "What right do you have to tell me what I can and can't do? Just because I've slept with you does _not_—"

"My ship. My rules. And for the record, sleeping with me has nothing to do with it—although now I'll admit I've got all the more reason to keep you from getting hurt."

"That goes both ways, you know. You're not the only one with a vested interest here."

"I know that, but you're still not coming along and that's final. And it's not just me. Chewie will pick you up and carry you off the ship if he has to. Don't think he won't."

She scrutinized him for a moment, as if debating his authenticity, and he had to dig deep to maintain his stern expression. Part of him was thrilled this amazing woman cared so much that she kept fighting, even when it drove him crazy, but he couldn't afford to cave now—she'd spot that weakness in an instant and exploit it like the consummate infighter she was.

Instead, Han settled for his most effective tactic: distraction. "Did any of your dreams involve me doing this?" He flashed his most devastating smile as his hand found its way back under her shirt with renewed purpose.

Leia's eyebrows shot up as she recognized the dirty tactic, but either she wasn't prepared for it or she didn't mind so much; he got the reaction he was hoping for as she arched up into his caress. Then she glared at him, visibly peeved by the fact that her eager body had just betrayed her. "That's not fair. You are the most infuriating, obstinate—"

"Exciting. Don't forget exciting," he rumbled, bowing to capture her closest earlobe between his teeth before sucking on it. The shiver that ran through her was all the incentive he needed and he groaned upon feeling his own swelling interest. He still didn't understand how she had gained such a powerful affect over him, but he was long past questioning it as her hand moved behind his neck, keeping him exactly where she wanted him.

"—exciting man I've ever met."

"I know…"

The kiss she gave him next was languid, lush, and lingering—it was the sort of kiss that could make a man forget his own name, although in his case he was more than eager to let that go. If this was a new tactic, a sensual attempt to out-maneuver him, then he was all for it. "Did you lock the hatch?"

"Of course."

He grinned against her lips, loving her boldness. "Of course… That's what I like about you. You're always thinking ahead."

"Somebody has to…"

It would be several hours before lunch, and Han had no intention of letting the time go to waste. He had a lot of distracting to do.


	23. The alarm

**Chapter 23 — The alarm**

An intrusive, annoying, and unfamiliar buzz woke Leia with a start. The subsonic rattling thrum of the _Falcon_ and the warmth of Han behind her filled her senses as a dream of soaring over endless dunes of golden sand on her own wings through stifling heat slipped away from her conscious grasp.

With a grunt, Han shifted beside her as he reached to the little control panel mounted in the bulkhead to kill the alarm, and then continued the motion in a long stretch. Followed suit, she added a little squeak of protest while contorting against him. When his hand dropped back down to rest on her hip and she felt him nuzzle into the nape of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair, she closed her eyes again, more than happy to ignore the time. Then he muttered something in Corellian that she couldn't translate, but she was pretty sure it wasn't positive in nature.

They'd stayed up late, way too late, extracting every last selfish moment together before sleep won out, and they would no doubt pay for it today. This was the first time in weeks that she'd needed a wake-up call, and she realized with a groan that it was true in more ways than one; their long idyll was about to end with the same abruptness as her dream.

Han move behind her again, and for a second she hoped he might initiate more—anything to postpone the day—but she knew he wouldn't, not this morning. They'd run out of time.

The man radiated reluctance as he let go of her and swung his long legs out from under the covers to sit up on the edge of the bunk. Rolling toward him, she touched his back, sliding her hand up his spine, wondering how many more times she could do this before he left. Completing the final repairs and then making the hyperjump to the Fleet rendezvous point, assuming that hadn't changed, would take maybe two or three days at the most, and then he would have to leave. The physical ache in her chest that accompanied this thought shocked her with its strength.

_Oh dear Goddess, I was wrong. Maybe this _is_ worse than never knowing…_

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression masked by the darkness of the cabin, but she imagined seeing the same thought reflected in his shadowed features.

"Han…"

"Back to reality, Princess."

"Reality is overrated." It was a bold statement that she would have balked at making four weeks ago, no matter how true. Wasn't she supposed to be _more_ mature now?

"You got that right." Watching as he raked fingers through his tousled hair, she usually smiled at this habit of his, but now the gesture seemed to generate more melancholy than anything. As if sensing her frame of mind, he reached back and caught her hand to give it a squeeze. "Go back to sleep. It'll be a few hours yet, but somebody needs to be up front when we hit their long-range sensors. We want to avoid any surprises."

It wasn't until he shuffled toward the fresher and disappeared behind the door that she relaxed onto her back and debated whether to try for a little more sleep, but then gave up the idea. Thoughts of their recent lovemaking came back to haunt her; the way he'd kept switching from generous to demanding, tender to possessive, as if he couldn't decide how to deal with her all of a sudden. His turmoil of moods had seemed to resonate within her last night, amplifying her own feelings as she grew attuned with him in a way that left her deeply stirred, and now it all kept looping in her mind like a damaged holodisk.

_He's scared, too. He won't admit it, but I can feel it._

It was a childish impulse, but she didn't want to move—didn't want to disturb anything—as if by doing so she could keep things from changing. Yet at the same time she felt the strongest temptation to jump up and join him in the shower in a blatant attempt to delay the inevitable. Both were juvenile responses and she rejected them with annoyance.

_Where's that single-minded resolve and dedication you're famous for, Leia? _

_Don't you mean _in_famous?_

Staring up at the dark, smooth bulkhead arching above her, she brooded. On some level she'd always feared that giving in to her feelings for Han might jeopardize her commitment to the Rebellion, and in a way this trip had allowed her a neat way to sidestep that conflict, if only for a few weeks, but with the journey now ending, the time had come to strap on the armor once more, to resume her duties, and she found the very thought of pulling on that tight white thermal bodysuit from Hoth—sealing it up to her neck, closing her body inside—was enough to make her shudder.

That genuine, spontaneous physical reaction confirmed her suspicion that their situation wasn't the only thing dramatically changed.

_If others can find a balance between life and work, why can't I?_ _There's got to be a way. Who says it has to be all or nothing? _

Defiance against the Empire was an obvious, necessary, and very personal objective, but she was also defiant by nature and couldn't help feeling contrary now, wanting to resist and abandon this path they were on and blaze her own.

_If there's one thing we're both known for, it's breaking the rules, right?_

Cocooning herself in the blanket, she buried her face into Han's pillow and breathed in.

_There's got to be a way…_


	24. The arrival

**Chapter 24 — The arrival**

By the time Leia put the finishing touches to her hair, a good portion of the morning was gone. Staring at her reflection in the mirror now, she wondered if she looked any different. Did she look changed? Older? Would people know in an instant that something profound had happened?

_Stop it, you're being paranoid. The only thing different is that you've finally rejoined the rest of humanity._

In fact, she had even picked the same old flattering but no-nonsense crown of braids that were her mainstay since Yavin, although between that and the snowsuit, she knew it was an invitation for an unfavorable comment from Han. The problem was that she needed something to help her reassume that mantel of responsibility she'd so blithely shed weeks ago, and unlike the hairstyles she'd experimented with throughout their long trip, the one today wasn't for his benefit—it was for hers. This one was practical, familiar, and business as usual.

_Is that what you really want? Business as usual?_

Frowning at her appearance, all too aware that her moods lately had swung wider than the Outer Rim, she was filled with a sudden urge to undo it all and damn propriety. A new sound from outside the cabin made Leia stop mid-motion, hand hovering near her ear. It was the rhythmic clanking of metal footsteps on the deck plates of the circular corridor outside, growing closer and then stopping. A moment later there followed a sharp, brief tapping on the bunkroom hatch.

"Mistress Leia?"

Leia squeezed her eyes shut and willed reality to go away, preferably down the nearest black hole, but the fact that the _Falcon_'s crew had switched See-Threepio back on was perhaps the most inarguable sign that their holiday was ending.

The nervous tapping resumed. "Mistress Leia? Are you in there? Captain Solo sent me to find you. Is there anything I may assist you with?"

Sighing, Leia stowed the hairbrush away and walked out into the main cabin. "I'll be out in a moment, Threepio."

Pausing in the center of the cabin, she looked at their bunk. _Their _bunk.

_Maybe if I talk directly with Chewie, I could change his vote…_

Laid out on the medical station bunk, the matching vest and gloves that accompanied her outfit seemed to mock her, but they were all part of the armor, part of what protected her from elements beyond her control. With a grimace, she grabbed them and turned toward the door.

"It's good to see you again, Your Highness," the protocol droid chirped as soon as the hatch opened. "Captain Solo has informed me that nearly four weeks have passed since we left the asteroid belt, and that we're about to arrive at the mining colony on Bespin. I must say that I am very confused as to how we escaped, or what has happened, and neither Captain Solo or Chewbacca will tell me. I am hoping that you will enlighten me so that I may share the story with my friend Artoo-Detoo later. Oh, I do hope he's all right! He does have a knack for finding trouble—I suspect it may be a flaw in his programming—"

Already inundated and wondering if she would even get a word in, Leia waved a hand as she stepped around the droid and marched down the corridor toward the cockpit. "We can thank Captain Solo for his skill and knowledge. The hyperdrive is still down and we've been traveling at sub-light speed ever since. Nothing else has happened."

_That may be the greatest understatement of all time._

But the rest of the story was none of his business and she would be a fool to share anything so personal with such a chatterbox. Not satisfied with her lack of elaboration, Threepio fussed along behind her, but she blocked him out as she finished dressing along the way. There wasn't much logic to putting on the gloves now now—she wasn't cold—but maybe wearing them would discourage her from touching Han at random and inappropriate times in equally random and inappropriate places, something she was prone to doing now.

Leia entered the cockpit to find it humming with a tense energy she hadn't felt in many weeks. The _Falcon_'s crew was arguing as the massive gas giant of a planet loomed ahead, crowding out everything else in the cockpit view, its surface a roiling swirl of orange and red that seemed alive, like a heatless sun, giving off such an oppressive glow that it made Leia stop in her tracks and stare out at it in dread.

"—don't give a damn what Teffarik said, he's the last person I'd trust to relay anything to Jabba."

"[Then how are we to even set foot in Mos Eisley without—]"

The smugglers hushed and Leia knew they'd stopped discussing their plans in deference to her, which only succeeded in annoying her.

_To call that a plan would be too generous. _

Frowning, she made a barely controlled landing into the navigator's seat. "Don't stop on my account."

Not taking the bitter bait, Han twisted around to give her an appraisal, his expression a mix of what she'd come to think of as "old" and "improved" Han; some of the old displeasure and orneriness had returned to mingle with the now-familiar affection. She wasn't sure how to interpret that.

"You know, I like how it hugs the curves, but it's not easy for me to get into."

It took Leia a moment, in her funk, to realize he was talking about her clothing and not the latest landspeeder or whatever. There was a time when she would have treated him to her chilliest stare or a sharp retort, but now her first instinct was a begrudged laugh. "Well, I can't go walking around in your old workout clothes, now can I?"

"I'm not sure walking around in _that_ will be any better." He gestured at her military-issued thermal suit for emphasis, and in particular the clearance insignia above her left breast.

Growing serious again, she gave him a cool look. "If you're trying to make me feel less nervous about this whole thing, you're doing a terrible job of it."

Too late Han seemed to realize his miscalculation, but was interrupted when the ship's comm link crackled to life.

"Cloud City Flight Control to approaching Why-Tee thirteen-hundred freighter. You are about to enter unauthorized airspace. Please transmit identification and landing permit immediately."

The link went quiet and Han gave his partner what she thought to be a very anxious look. "Okay, Chewie, send that fake ID we set up."

"[What about a landing permit?]" the Wookiee queried, even as he followed his captain's orders.

"We obviously don't have one, so just fly normal."

"[What's 'normal'?]"

Leia couldn't help rolling her eyes. The Wookiee had a point.

They were entering the outermost atmosphere of the planet now, and huge columns of dense, billowing clouds, tinted red and orange by the system's distant sun, rose up around them to form a canyon.

A proximity alarm went off, making them all jump as it announced other ships approaching, while the comm station speaker boomed out again, this time with more menace. "Cloud City Flight Control to _Gambler's Fate_. You are not authorized to approach for docking without a landing permit."

Han leaned toward Chewie and hit the toggle switch on the comm mike. "_Gambler's Fate_ to Cloud City Flight Control. This is an emergency. Let me speak with Lando Calrissian. He knows who I am. He'll okay the docking."

A pair of orange twin-pod cloud cars appeared out of the brilliant cloud cover ahead, swooping in to bracket the _Falcon_ on either side. As one of them drew up alongside close enough that she could make out the pilot in the cockpit and navigator in the matching nacelle, Leia stood and gripped the back of Han's chair, too nervous to sit still any longer.

"Warning, _Gambler's Fate_, you are entering unauthorized airspace. Do you have a landing permit?"

As if to prove they were finished playing games, one of the cloud cars dropped back out of sight, and a second later a blast of laserfire crossed the _Falcon_'s flight path, causing Han to react in an instant by changing their course to new coordinates, even as he continued toward the city. Meanwhile, he tried to reason with the docking official, his voice an exercise in measured patience. "No, I _don't_ have a landing permit. I'm trying to reach Lando Calrissian…"

There was another burst of flak, and this time the _Falcon_ was buffeted as laserfire deflected off the rear shields.

Showing alarm for the first time, Han hit the transmitter switch again. "Whoa! Wait a minute! Let me explain—"

"You will not deviate from your present course."

"Rather touchy, aren't they?" Threepio pointed out, causing Leia to jump once again. Having grown used to the droid occupying the communications station in darkened silence, she'd forgotten he was reactivated.

All senses on full-alert, every instinct now screamed at her to run the other way, but what choice did they have? They would starve long before reaching the next inhabited planet, assuming they weren't picked off by scavengers or suffered some other catastrophic breakdown. Even so, their reception so far was anything but hospitable. Leaning forward, she shot Han an accusatory glare. "I thought you knew this person."

"[That's probably why they took a shot at us,]" Chewbacca volunteered. "[He may still hold a grudge about the _Falcon_. Or maybe about the time Solo upstaged Lando's attempts to seduce half of Serrel Konash's wedding party..]."

Leia cast a renewed look of smoldering annoyance at Han.

_I _still_ don't know a blasted thing about this man!_

Han squirmed in his seat as if somebody had dumped a hive of stinging creepers down his pants, although Goddess knew those were tight enough Leia couldn't see how anything more would fit. "Well, that was a long time ago. I'm sure he's forgotten about that."

He was rescued from further embarrassment by the authoritative voice coming through the comm link once more. "Permission granted to land on Platform Three-two-seven."

"Thank you," was Han's sarcastic response as he switched off the intercom. Only then did he seem to notice her glare, which he shrugged away with a satisfied grin. "There's nothing to worry about. We go way back, Lando and me."

Feeling anything but convinced, she returned to her seat. "Who's worried?"

The _Falcon_ broke through a rouged layer of clouds to emerge into the open stratosphere, where in the distance hovered a massive platform that she recognized from her datapad research as Cloud City. A tense silence prevailed in the cockpit as their cloud car escorts corralled their approach and arrival, making sure the starship never strayed from its approved course. Early morning air traffic was light as Han wove the freighter among the tallest spires and buildings.

Any other time and Leia would have been fascinated by the unique architecture of the outpost city, but her mind was too occupied with possible scenarios, most of them bad. They appeared to be heading for a vacant single-ship docking platform ahead, the sort of landing stage reserved for VIPs, and she couldn't decide if she liked that or not; while it would offer them a degree of privacy (something she was keen to maintain), it would also restrict their freedom of movement. Glancing again at Han, his cool façade was back, foiling her attempts to read his body language.

_I can feel it, though. He's thinking the same thing. He's not used to this sort of reception._

Within a few short minutes, as the _Falcon_ came to rest on the circular platform and her crew began shutting down the main systems, Leia noticed they were keeping the defensive systems online and felt a modicum of relief—at least it demonstrated they were remaining cautious.

As Han climbed out of his seat, straightened up to his full height, and adjusted his holster rig, he spared a long moment to look at her before offering his hand. His poignant smile made her heart pound. "Come on, Princess. Time to get some fresh air."

She nodded, accepting his chivalrous gesture, and it was an odd sensation to touch him but not feel his skin. He must have noticed as well because he glanced down at her hand in dissatisfaction.

"[Should I bring my bowcaster?]" Chewie interrupted their moment of silent disorientation.

"Nah, Chewie. That's probably not the kind of mood we want to set…but make sure you redirect the quad guns to the external auxiliary controls on the boarding ramp—just in case."

"[Right.]"

Feeling more apprehensive with every moment, Leia began to shake her head, but Han preempted any comment by pulling her out of the cockpit and into the passageway. "We'll get the ship fixed up, restock, and buy you some new outfits before we head back out. This'll be real quick."

"I wish I had your confidence."

He plowed on. "Hell, I can't decide which sounds better right now, seeing you in something different or digging into a five-course meal."

"I don't know…I think we should stay as close to the _Falcon_ as possible."

"It's cabin fever. You've been on this ship too long. As soon as you're out and walking around a bit, you'll feel better. Trust me." Stopping near the loading ramp to wait for Chewbacca and Threepio, he reached up to caress her cheek. It was the first time he'd touched her since the alarm in the early morning, and she couldn't help closing her eyes, needing the contact.

_If I'm already missing him this badly after only a few hours, how am I going to cope when he leaves for good?_

"This is so exciting," Threepio prattled on as he minced down the cockpit corridor toward them. "I have never had an occasion to visit Cloud City before, but I have heard of it. They say the views rival any to be found on the most popular luxury cruise lines of the Core systems…"

Meeting her dismayed look, Han rolled of his eyes before hitting the controls to lower the boarding ramp. "He's your droid."

"That's a matter still up for debate."

Despite her insulated suit, the rush of cold fresh air that gusted past them made Leia shiver as the sealed environment of the ship was breached for the first time in four weeks. While it carried a taste of something unidentifiable and slightly metallic, it was a pleasant change after breathing the recycled, lubricant-tinged atmosphere of the _Falcon_ for so long. Pure reflex made Leia close her eyes again as she drew in a deeper breath.

_Maybe he's right. Maybe you've just been cooped up too long. You've had too much time to obsess about this day._

Already halfway down the incline of the ramp while it was still lowering, Han peered around in caution as it came to rest on the docking bay platform

"[Where's the port authority?]" Chewbacca asked as they followed in Han's wake and moved out onto the empty platform.

"Oh, no one to meet us," Threepio fussed. Whereas the Wookiee's comment had been loaded with suspicion, the protocol droid just sounded disappointed by the breach in decorum.

All of them stared at the sealed docking bay doors at the far end of the narrow walkway where there'd yet to appear any sign of welcome or even acknowledgement of their presence.

The hair rising along Leia's arms had nothing to do with the bracing air. "I don't like this."

Han turned and stepped back to face her, some of his exasperation with her ominous remarks beginning to slip through for the first time. "Well, what _would_ you like?"

_What I would like involves going back to our bunk. _

That was just the sort of wildly inappropriate thought she was afraid of. Not about to voice it now, instead she tipped her head to meet his bothered gaze with a mute one of her own.

"Well, they did let us land," Threepio interjected on a positive note.

"Look, don't worry," Han reasoned. "Everything's going to be fine. Trust me." Now clearly frustrated, he was doubtless growing tired of saying that, which seemed fitting as she was tired of hearing it.

There was a loud hiss from the docking platform blast doors, drawing their attention.

"[Somebody's coming,]" Chewie announced as the doors slid open to reveal an interior of dazzling white walls and a squad of blue-uniformed men inside.

As if she'd needed another jolt of adrenaline, Leia froze in alarm upon seeing the armed cadre that began marching toward them.

_Oh dear Goddess, they're coming to arrest us._

She shot a look at Han, preparing to bolt back up the ramp for a hasty departure upon his signal, but he appeared to recognize one of the men approaching and gave her his most confident smile as he gestured toward the party.

"See? My friend."

Leia gave him a little nod, reserving any further comment as Han moved away to pause beside his partner and tap the Wookiee on the chest. "Keep your eyes open, huh?"

As Han walked out to greet the group, she noticed a dark-skinned man in the lead, dressed in indigo and black, and wearing a style of cape she was pretty sure had passed out of fashion in the Core Systems quite some time ago. Even from this distance Leia could read tension in his body language, his gait stiff and angry as he crossed the bridge that linked the circular building to their landing platform. He looked like a man preparing for a fight.

Another detail that caught her eye was the rare cybernetic device wrapped around the head of the one other man not part of the security detail, dressed in a grey jumpsuit. The rational part of her guessed he was probably the city administrator's assistant, but the fact he was capable of silent communication only contributed to her unease. The subordinate called the guards to a halt, but the swarthy, handsome man in the lead continued advancing, and now she could see the forbidding set of his dark expression, all of it aimed at Han. A chill ran through her as the wind buffeted them, ruffling Solo's thick hair and making the stranger's cape fly out like raptor's wings before a strike.

"Hey!" Han called out as he strode from under the relative protection of the _Falcon_'s hull.

"Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler!" The words were ground out through gritted teeth and Calrissian's eyes flashed outrage as he came to a sudden stop within arms' reach of Han, as if squaring off for a duel. "You've got a lot of guts coming here, after what you pulled."

Han pointed both his hands at his own chest and mouthed an innocent, "Me?" It had to be the most disingenuous gesture she'd seen Han make in months, and she was not surprised when it appeared to have the same affect on Calrissian as it usually did on her—he seemed to grow angrier.

Calrissian took a series of steps closer, into Solo's personal space, and then jerked his hands up as if about to land a much-deserved punch. Solo's reaction was instant, bringing his fists up in defense.

Maybe that was just the response the stranger was looking for—to see that flash of fear on Han's face—because rather than strike, he suddenly grasped Han's forearms and then closed the distance to throw his arms around Solo in a tight hug. Lando's dark mustachioed features broke into a dazzling smile as he let out a booming laugh in the quiet morning air. Then he stepped back to grip Han's upper arms and shake him.

"How you doing, you old pirate? So good to see you! I never thought I'd catch up with you again. Where've you been?"

Clearly still on guard, Han unclenched his fists and returned the loose embrace, and only then did his face break out in a wide grin.

Standing beside Leia, Threepio shuffled forward in delight. "Well, he seems very friendly."

Still uneasy but grateful that things hadn't ended up in a brawl, Leia echoed, "Yes...very friendly." Realizing it would be appropriate to join them now, but reluctant to emerge from the shadows where she could observe unnoticed, she watched the droid head off toward the little reunion, then summoned up her most neutral diplomatic mask and followed.

"What are you doing here?" Calrissian babbled on, all enthusiasm.

Han pointed a thumb over his shoulder at his ship. "Ahh...repairs. I thought you could help me out."

Calrissian adopted a sudden look of exaggerated concern. "What have you done to my ship?"

Either Han was more sensitive about that subject than he'd let on, or this was an old joke between them, for his manner took on a sharp defensive tone. "Your ship? Hey, remember, you lost her to me fair and square."

Calrissian dropped it and looked past Solo. "And how are you doing, Chewbacca? You still hanging around with this loser?"

"[Hello, Calrissian.]"

_Now that's tact. _

For some reason, Leia had never discussed the topic of Lando with Chewie during their trip, and all of the sudden she regretted the oversight for it was obvious there was a story here. As she drew near and got her first up-close look, Calrissian seemed to notice her for the first time. The lightening-swift change in his expression caused her to reassess her initial impression of the man: he was all instant charm.

"Hello. What have we here?" He zeroed in on her, abandoning Han as he advanced forward to hold out his hand. "Welcome. I'm Lando Calrissian. I'm the administrator of this facility. And who might you be?"

_I might be on to you already_.

Leia's innate ability to read people had served her well in the Imperial Senate and numerous less-than-legal negotiations since, and now she recognized Han's truth in description from the moment their eyes locked: gambler, con artist, scoundrel—a different sort of scoundrel, perhaps, but one none the less. His tone and gestures were more appropriate for a ballroom reception than the middle of an exposed docking platform on a gas-mining facility, but then again, some women were easily swayed. Han must have known this, too, for he grimaced and walked off to the side while running his hand through his hair in a failed attempt to hide his discomfort.

_I do believe the man is jealous!_

Now perversely intrigued, she matched Lando's charm with a smile that had dazzled more than a few politicians back in the day, and accepted his hand. "Leia."

"Welcome, Leia." Lando bowed to kiss the back of her gloved hand.

That seemed to push Han's last button, for he stepped around from behind Lando to peer down at her, monitoring her reaction like he might the gauges on the _Falcon_. Her eyes rose to meet his hazel ones, teasing him, daring him.

_One more rescue, for old time's sake? _

Han hesitated, and then grinned as if only now getting her point before butting in by reaching to remove her hand from Lando's as he passed between them, breaking the mood. "All right, all right…you old smoothie."

She rewarded Han with a genuine smile, beaming up at him as he steered her away from the others and toward the city entrance. "You never mentioned he was so charming."

"Why would I give a man like that a head start?" Han mumbled back to her with his most lopsided grin—the one for which she lacked immunity.

They were prevented from any more banter when Lando caught up beside them. "What's wrong with the _Falcon_?"

Han gave her hand a solid squeeze before letting go so she could fall back and let them talk shop.

Hands clamped behind her back to keep them from clenching at her sides, Leia trailed behind Han. She wanted to admire the surprising elegance and beauty of the industrial city they were entering, the white and rounded architecture that complimented the natural beauty of the clouds around them, but something still ate at her nerves. Yet there was a strong temptation to take their time at this outpost city, enjoying anonymity together, being just Han and Leia for once outside the confines of the _Falcon_.

_Stop it. Don't forget why you're here. This isn't a social junket._

Han tossed a quick glance over his shoulder to check on her as they neared the doors, perhaps sensing her struggle.

Lando turned back to her as well, walking backwards long enough so he could meet her gaze, his animated comments for her benefit. "You know, that ship saved my life quite a few times. She's the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy!"

Leia granted Calrissian a nod of agreement before meeting Han's eyes again, letting her affection show once more.

_Yes, the _Falcon_ has a habit of doing that._

As they passed through the open doors and into the city proper, Leia divided her attention between the ongoing conversation and the beautiful architecture, something she wouldn't have expected to find on such a remote and industrialized platform. Random pieces of artwork and expansive viewports were scattered throughout the wide, white corridors in a deliberate attempt to make the enclosed city as appealing as possible.

Solo's laugh snapped Leia's attention back to him—it always had—and she watched as Calrissian gave him a cautious look. "What's so funny?"

"You. Listen to you—you sound like a businessman, a responsible leader. Who'd have thought that, huh?"

Lando paused, bringing their little party to a halt in the middle of the corridor. "You know, seeing you sure brings back a few things."

"Yeah." Han appeared to reminisce as he gripped Lando on the shoulder. But there was something off in his response as he glanced past Lando to give Leia another pointed look. Unable to tell if it was to offer into evidence that his friend was reliable, or if he were reminded of things he'd have preferred left forgotten, she cocked an eyebrow and tipped her head, as if to say, _'You have friends with legitimate jobs. Very impressive.'_

Lando resumed walking, leading them over toward a bank of turbolifts. "Yeah, I'm responsible these days. It's the price you pay for being successful." He ushered them into the lift and punched in directions for the top level.

"I'm surprised you still have this place. I'd have figured you'd put it up in another wager by now," Han admitted.

Lando laughed. "Who says I haven't? I just happened to win those hands. You're the only one I regularly lost to…"

"Huh, go figure…" Standing across from her, Han sought her eyes yet again and gave her a little wink.

Not the gambling type—or at least not that kind of gambling—Leia found herself glad she'd never taken Han up on any of those proposed games of strip Sabacc during lulls between missions; she got the distinct impression she would have lost every hand.

"I'm taking you up to our VIP suite," Lando interrupted. "I'll get that team of mechanics assigned to the _Falcon_. If there's anything else you need, I can have it sent up."

Leia opened her mouth to respond, but Han beat her to it. "Thanks, buddy, but don't go to too much trouble. We won't be staying long."

Lando's smile was suave and all for her. "Nonsense. You're my guests. Lobot, my assistant, will arrange all the comforts while you're here. I'm sure you'd prefer something a bit more comfortable than the _Falcon_. Something with a better view. You won't find one more beautiful in this whole quadrant."

"It is a lovely city," Leia agreed, glancing from one man to the other, still trying to determine the relationship between them; something in Calrissian's manner seemed tense, on guard, even though he was working overtime to disguise it with protocol.

_Protocol._

It took a moment for Leia to recognize what felt out of place. She'd been so distracted by their new surroundings and the interplay between the old friends that she hadn't noticed the absence of a nattering droid in the background.

"Han…" she said, trying to mask her alarm. "Threepio…"

Han frowned for an instant, as if wondering why she would bring him up now, and then realization dawned on him, too, and he glanced around the lift. "Where the hell did he go?"

Lando looked confused. "I'm sorry, is something wrong?"

"Ah, it's our protocol droid. He was right behind us a minute ago. He's more trouble than he's worth."

Lando nodded. "Don't worry, he can't be far. I'll have my people track him down."

The lift slowed to a stop and they stepped out into a brightly lit corridor where an arched threshold led down into what appeared to be a lounge. Lando gestured for them to step in, and then followed them down.

The room was circular, elegant, and airy, a penthouse suite with a graceful skylight that let in the morning light to dramatic effect. The center of the sunken lounge was decorated with a twisting crystalline sculpture, circled by a simple but stylish seating arrangement and glass tables, and an entire half of the room's wall was made of transparisteel, offering a commanding view of the city below and the shifting cloudbanks of scarlet and orange beyond. There were two doors lining the curved walls, no doubt leading into private sleeping chambers.

Leia walked over to the window to gaze out at the still-sleepy city outside. Her first instinct was to search for the _Falcon_, but she couldn't spot the docking platform in question—their journey through the winding corridors and lifts had mixed up her sense of direction. Han was much better at that sort of thing, but it still made her nervous that she didn't know where they were in relation to the ship.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lando catch Han by his shirtsleeve, tugging him off to the side. Although his voice was subdued, she could still overhear them.

"I wasn't sure how many rooms you needed, Han. Are you two…you know…?"

"Yeah. We are."

There was a possessive, defensive quality to Han's answer, intended to leave no doubt that she was hands-off, and while Leia suspected that might have been his answer even if they weren't a couple, the thought that Han might feel uncertain about her fidelity was unexpected. After all, hadn't she been rather obvious the past few weeks?

"I see. Well, my friend, clearly your tastes and luck have improved."

Leia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed, but she was pretty sure that the novelty of being compared to mysterious women from Han's past would wear off very fast. Even now she could feel the two sets of eyes appraising her while they spoke, and it took all her self control to keep from telling the men to take it outside.

"How soon do you think those technicians can start on the _Falcon_?"

"I'll make sure it's right away."

"Great. I'll go back to let them onboard. Listen…" Han hesitated long enough to cause Leia to glance back at him, wondering why he'd gone quiet. He sent her what looked like a preemptive half-smile of apology. "Is there any way you could maybe arrange something like a personal shopper for Leia? We…ah. We had to leave in a hurry and it's been a long trip. She could use something new to wear, that sort of thing."

Leia had to give Han credit for reading her mood better than she expected, and for coming up with a good solution. Tempted as she might otherwise have been to shop for new clothing, walking around in her current wardrobe would only invite unwanted attention—something she felt desperate to avoid. Plus, the notion of exploring unaccompanied by Han held no appeal; still-fresh memories of the fiasco on Ord Mantell left her uncertain of the whole idea of wandering around the city at all, much less alone. Still, she sensed Han wasn't thrilled with the idea of putting himself that much further in Calrissian's debt, either, so the sacrifice was appreciated.

Lando agreed with a zealous nod. "Of course! It would be my pleasure."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I didn't mean by _you_, Buddy."

Lando laughed, holding up his hands in defense, getting the point. "I wouldn't dream of it, Han. I'll send Giesla right up. She's another assistant of mine. She's done that sort of thing before and she'll know just what to do."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Just add it on my tab."

"Riiiiight." There was obvious skepticism in Calrissian's statement.


	25. The calm

**Chapter 25 — The calm**

He'd known things were bad—far worse than he would have let on in front of Leia—but it wasn't until the dedicated team of ship mechanics arrived and began evaluating the _Falcon_ that Han got a good look at the outer hull. It was luck that the hyperdrive had failed, for the ship wouldn't have withstood the extreme stresses of a hyperjump in the condition she was in, and they would have most likely suffered a catastrophic implosion.

This unfortunate fact meant that, aside from a brief break for lunch with Leia back in the suite, most of his day had been spent overseeing and approving the repairs. It was sobering and satisfying work, but there was a part of him reluctant to relinquish the dwindling time he might otherwise have spent spoiling Leia. Lando had made it clear that everything during their stay was on the house, and after witnessing the gambler's unabashed ogling of her, Han intended to drain the coffers dry.

Moments ago Han had used the comlink he'd given Leia, calling to check in and let her know he was on his way back. She had sounded tense, her words clipped, and he was left with the impression she wasn't happy stewing alone, wasn't happy with the fact that Threepio was still missing (as if she'd once missed the damned droid over the past four weeks_)_,and wouldn't be happy until they blasted back out of Bespin's gravitational pull. Maybe it was just as well he was out of firing range most of the day; it had been a long time since he'd seen her real temper ignited, but experience told him he was often the spark.

Bespin's days were significantly longer than standard, stretching well into what his internal clock considered evening, thus daylight was still burning bright as Han stood on the docking platform, watching the repair crew wrap up their work for the day. Despite Calrissian's tendency toward exaggeration, Han had to admit the team of technicians was skilled; his friend had not pawned off a gaggle of droids, as was typical of public dock services, but had sent talented sentients. He was pleased with how much they'd accomplished in the day.

Now Han felt hungry and tired, and wasn't looking forward to Leia's reaction when he informed her they would have to stay over the long night. He hoped that treating her to a gourmet meal might be enough to turn her mood, and their reluctant stay, into something more pleasant. Seeing her in different settings and lighting, in and out of whatever new clothes she'd picked out, held a lot of promise, and more than anything, he wanted this last opportunity to treat her in a way she deserved before he had to leave. Maybe for this one night they could pretend they had a normal life together.

As Chewie escorted the last of the mechanics down the boarding ramp, Han thanked them as they filed past on their way to the city. He waited as Chewie sealed up the ship and walked over to join him. They paused together and eyed the _Falcon_ in the comfortable silence of long-time friends, and then Chewie glanced at him.

"[What are you thinking?]"

"Trust me, you don't want to know." Han sighed and shook himself, then turned on his heel. "They're doing a good job."

"[Yes. That's some of the cleanest fusing I've seen.]"

"I figure at this rate we'll be done before lunch tomorrow."

"[I think so, too.]" There was another long silence as they walked toward the large white doors before Chewie voiced the same doubt that had been niggling at his own conscience all day. "[I don't believe Calrissian has suddenly grown a sense of charity. He's working an angle. He always has an angle.]"

"I know, Chewie. I know. I just haven't figured out what it is yet." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to dislodge the tickling along his spine; he'd been feeling like they were being watched, but failed to spot anything out of the ordinary. "Maybe he's just mellowed with time…"

The Wookiee woofed in gentle amusement. "[Well, someone has.]"

Han shot him a pointed look. "You start spreading that rumor around and you're fired."

"[You can't fire me if I quit first.]"

"Empty threat. Your reputation is linked with mine."

"[Nonsense. I have a wife and little one. I'm respectable.]"

Han felt his expression falter for a second, guilt and an inexplicable sense of longing warring within him, but he pushed those feelings back to wherever dark recess they'd come from. "Sure. That's why you're only _third_ on Jabba's hit list."

"[It's clearly an oversight. I should be second.]"

Han let out a soft laugh, but then sobered again. "Would you mind much if I took Leia out for some dinner alone tonight?"

The Wookiee paused to give him a mystified look. "[Why would I mind?]"

He shrugged, not really having an answer. In all the years of their partnership, it had been just the two of them; women had never played more than cameo roles, but that old formula was changing, the dynamic altered, and he wasn't sure how much or what to make of it yet.

"[Did the princess mention if the droid has turned up yet?]"

"Yeah, there's no sign of him and she sounds pretty upset. Kreth, all these years I've wanted to lose his shiny ass, and he has to go and do it _now_? He's got worse timing than a Federation chrono. I'm starting to think somebody programmed him that way on purpose."

"[It wouldn't surprise me.]" Chewie glanced at the waiting lift. "[Go enjoy the evening. I think I'll take a look around and see if I can find him.]"

"Thanks, Buddy. I appreciate it."

Han stepped into the lift and punched in the code for the penthouse suite, while continuing to muse on possible plans. Yes, maybe a good dinner, followed by a quiet walk before heading back to the suite to appreciate the sunset from a more horizontal vantage point; that sounded just about right.

Han arrived to find Leia standing at the far side of the main chamber of their suite, hands on her hips as she paced in front of the expansive window. Dressed now in the local fashion, hers an ensemble of rust-red tunic, matching slacks, and cape of sheer white lace, her hair had also changed as well, now pulled back into a set of double-loop braids like she'd debuted a week or two ago—a style that he'd said he'd liked before proceeding to destroy it in his enthusiasm.

However, Han only had a moment to appreciate her new appearance this time before she launched at him.

_Oh, kest. I know that look. So much for romance._

He braced himself like a man walking into a strong headwind. "The ship's almost finished. Two or three more things and we're in great shape."

Leia marched over, wagging a finger, her expression stormy. "The sooner the better! Something's wrong here. No one has seen or knows anything about Threepio. He's been gone too long to have gotten lost."

_That's what I get for leaving her up here alone all day. She's had nothing to do but brood._

When she drew close enough, Han grasped her shoulders and bent to kiss her forehead, then ran a thumb over her cheek, a little amazed by how different she looked with make-up reapplied. "Relax. I'll talk to Lando and see what I can find out." His effort to soothe her fears seemed to pay off as her expression softened and she relaxed a little beneath his hands; it was a powerful lesson, to learn he had the ability to calm her with a simple touch—when had that happened?

"I don't _trust_ Lando," Leia said, her emphasis leaving no uncertainty as to the source of her discomfort as she stepped away and sank down onto the closest couch, a curved design that allowed a couple to sit facing one another. Interpreting the move as an invite to join her, he stepped around the other side and sat.

"Well, I don't trust him, either, but he is my friend," Han reasoned. Considering they still had little choice in the matter, there seemed no point in stressing over it. "Besides, we'll soon be gone."

She paused and tilted her head a little, as if reassessing him. "And then you're as good as gone, aren't you?"

The question hit him like a body-blow, delivered with the accuracy of someone used to wielding words like weapons. What was worse, he lacked any real defense. He'd almost convinced himself that this debate was settled, but he should have known better; he should have anticipated she wouldn't give up if there was any hint of weakness in his determination.

Unable to find an answer either of them would be happy with, he glanced away, but then something made him look back up to meet her eyes—they were a beautiful warm brown in the bright sunlight, rich like the finest polished wood—and he was no longer afraid to let her see whatever she might find in his.

"Leia…It's taking every bit of self control I have not to lock you in my cabin, set a course for the far end of the Beyond, and never look back."

Despite her composed appearance, there was an aura of coiled energy around her, as though she were ready to spring at anything that got them away from this place.

"Why don't you?"

Her expression remained intense, her dark eyes steady, and Han realized with a jolt that she was serious.

For an instant he let that fantasy flit through his mind again, never feeling more tempted than in that moment. Jabba couldn't live forever, and sooner or later an underling or rival would take him out or the Empire would tire of his antics. All Han would have to do is hunker down on some backwater planet, disappear for a while, cut all ties—it was the same advice his old friend and employer, Saltanos, had given him back on Ord Mantell, only this time Leia was proposing to come along and disappear with him.

_Here's your chance, just what you've always wanted. Why the hell aren't you running for the _Falcon_ right now?_

Yesterday, when he'd toyed with the idea—when it had seemed little more than a daydream—he'd been so sure he would leap at the chance, but now he found himself sighing, all certainty gone. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time he'd reinvented himself, and he supposed it wouldn't be the first time for Leia, either, not after Alderaan. But was she really willing to go through it again—to abandon what little was left of her previous life and start over with a completely new identity and little else but the roaming life he could offer? Would they ever be able to come back? Would they ever be able to stop looking over their shoulders or stop worrying about their pasts catching up with them?

_You already know the answer._

"Because there's got to be more in our lives than just each other, and the Rebellion is a big part of yours." He moved a hand to cover one of hers that rested on the couch between them; he squeezed it, trying to find words that didn't come easily to him. "Because you wouldn't really be happy for long. Someday you'd probably resent me for taking you away from what you need to do here, and I couldn't live with that… It doesn't mean I'm not tempted, though. Every minute. But that's not what you really want, anyway, is it?"

Her eyes dropped away, down to their intertwined hands. "I want you."

Hearing her say that was enough to make his heart trip up. "I think…I think maybe we both want the same things, Sweetheart. But it's just not possible right now, and running away's not your style."

For the briefest second he thought he could detect a glimmer of fear in her beautiful face, as though she were reminded of things assumed forgotten. "Is it yours?"

"Not anymore," he said, and the answer surprised him. Chewie was right—it was obvious who had mellowed. "I just have to take care of some old business first. You know that. I can't think about anything else until I do."

Not looking back up, she instead watched as her thumb grazed over the top of his hand. Leia seemed to be working up to another question, but they were interrupted without warning by the arrival of Chewbacca, who hunched in through the doorway, his arms loaded with a crate filled with recognizable golden parts.

"[I've found the droid! I was almost too late.]"

Leia was up off the couch in an instant to step over and peer down at the remains as Chewie settled on a neighboring bench to rummage through the parts. "What happened?"

"[Blaster scoring on his chest plate. I found him in a junk pile.]"

Any sense of peace Han had managed to cultivate evaporated faster than a mud puddle in Mos Eisley. "Where?"

Chewie gave him a look of disbelief and waved one of the droid's detached arms. "[You heard me! This was no accident.]"

"Found him in a junk pile," Han echoed, mystified. There'd been countless instances when he was tempted to take the annoying droid apart via the liberal use of his largest wrench, but he couldn't imagine what the droid could have done in such a short time to earn a blaster bolt. Well, no, he could actually imagine one or two things, but still…

"[Recycling,]" the Wookiee clarified, and his implication was obvious—somebody had tried to hide the evidence.

"Oh, what a mess," Leia sighed. "Chewie, do you think you can repair him?"

"[I don't know. It'll take a while.]"

Not bothering to get up, intending to maintain an air of confidence he no longer felt, Han gestured to their surroundings. "Lando's got people who can fix him."

Leia frowned back as if reading right through him. She really was _too_ good at that. "No, thanks."

He couldn't blame her—she was tired of fending off Lando's solicitations, and that sort of help would just place her that much deeper into the man's debt.

They were interrupted again by the chime from the lobby entrance, and Han groaned as Calrissian stepped down into the room—his timing couldn't be worse.

"[We've got company.]"

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupted anything?"

"Not really," Leia answered, her voice cooling faster than cup of kaffe in the Echo Base canteen; her change in body language was instant and palpable as she drew the lacework cape around her.

The gesture wasn't lost on Lando, either, but he took in her response with grace and eased into the sort of predatory smile Han had seen used on more than a few beguiled women over the years. "You look absolutely beautiful. You truly belong here with us among the clouds."

Clamping a hand over his mouth, Han smothered a laugh. Lando's repeated efforts at seduction were wasted; he was out of his league with Leia. Hell, it had taken Han two years of steady siege work to get past her barricades, and she had _liked_ him!

All the same, the constant interest Lando kept paying her, as if she were the rich pot in some high-stakes sabacc game between them, was getting on Han's last nerve, and the fact that all this clearly made Leia uncomfortable solidified his own irritation.

"Thank you," she conceded with a regal nod, now every centim the princess he sometimes forgot shared space with his Leia. It was a fascinating exercise, trying to reconcile the passionate woman he'd awakened with the glacially cool one standing between them now.

_Was she ever that cold with me? I don't think so._

Lando stepped closer and held out a hand. "Would you join me for a little refreshment?"

"[Refreshment?]" Chewbacca hooted in enthusiasm.

"Everyone's invited, of course," Calrissian added, realizing after the fact that he'd only invited her.

Even as she took Calrissian's proffered hand, Leia glanced back to Han. Recognizing his cue, he rose and walked over to offer a bent elbow as another option, which she switched to without hesitation, and he imagined they'd become a united front in that moment, the rest of the universe be damned.

Lando sent an inscrutable look down at the remnants of Threepio now abandoned on the couch. "Having trouble with your droid?"

"No, no problem. Why?" Han hedged, as if protocol droids fell apart on a regular basis. Not waiting for a response or any more questions, he led Leia toward the door.

Traffic through the hallways had picked up as the evening progressed, and there were many more people going about business and pleasure now as the trio followed Lando's lead through the corridors. As their conversation returned to the business of Lando's business, Han suspected that despite her desire to be gone from this place, the Alliance Mistress of Ways and Means was hard at work. While her single-mindedness had annoyed him in the past—most often because it meant she wasn't paying attention to him—he enjoyed watching her in action now. Maybe it was because for once he was pretty sure that no matter how preoccupied, she still reserved a big part of that heart just for him.

"So you see, since we're a small operation, we don't fall into the jurisdiction of the Empire." Calrissian was explaining as Han tuned back in on their conversation.

"So you're part of the Mining Guild, then?" Leia asked, and Han got the feeling she was trying to pin him down, as though he'd been avoiding a solid answer.

_Good luck with that, Sweetheart._

"No, not actually. Our operation is small enough not to be noticed, which is advantageous for everybody since our customers are anxious to avoid attracting attention to themselves."

Frowning, Han couldn't quite square that explanation with his understanding of the business; never mind the membership fees, there were definite advantages to working within the Guild…unless there was more to this operation than Lando was letting on. "Aren't you afraid the Empire is going to find out about this little operation, and shut you down?"

"It's always been a danger. It looms like a shadow over everything we've built here, but things have developed that will ensure security."

"[Han…]" Chewbacca gave a cautious growl, trying to get his attention. "[Something isn't right…]"

Han had to agree with Chewie on that. Besides the dodgy answers from Calrissian, he'd begun to notice the increased frequency of the powder-blue uniformed police that peppered the corridors of the city, but before he could ask if there had been a recent crime wave or something, Lando brought their little party to a stop in front of a set of double-doors.

"I've just made a deal that'll keep the Empire out of here forever," Lando continued as he reached up to thumb the entrance stud and doors swished open.

"[Look out!]" Chewbacca's deafening bellow echoed in the corridor around them.

It took Han just a second longer to react, registering his partner's roar as he turned from Lando's cryptic words to peer into to the room and recognize the black visage that rose to stand at the far end.

Han was fast. Years of practice and of necessity had honed his skills to near Jedi-like speed. Without needing to think, his blaster appeared in his right hand, even as he grabbed Leia's hand in his left to keep her behind him. And yet, as quick as he pulled the trigger, Darth Vader was faster. The well-aimed bolts of energy glanced off the Sith Lord's outstretched hand to singe the pristine white walls of the dining room, and then the blaster was yanked from Han's hand like a toy from a child. It flew across the length of the table separating them, leaving Han to watch in mute disbelief as it landed in the fallen Jedi's black glove.

"We would be honored if you would join us." The modulated voice was deep and out of synch with the mechanical breathing, a rasping sound that filled the room like a wheezing speeder engine running on a dying power cell.

Han had never met Vader in person—had hoped, like any other sensible being, never to do so. But it was clear his luck had run out. As if to drive home the fact, there was movement behind Vader as a familiar figure emerged from behind a service screen. It was the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, a very real nightmare of his own, complete with Wookiee scalps dangling from the battle-scarred body armor as grisly trophies.

Too late, Han took a step back and turned to run back the way they'd come, but a squad of white-encased stormtroopers, led by Calrissian's assistant, assembled to block the exit. Trapped and disarmed, he realized the game was up and that Lando has finally shown his hand.

"I had no choice," Calrissian explained, as if anyone wanted to hear him anymore, as if anyone needed his excuses. "They arrived right before you did. I'm sorry."

Han felt the princess move at his side and looked down to find her eyes wide and locked on him, filled with elemental fear. He sought out her hand once more, and she gripped it so tight he winced as he turned back to Lando, his thoughts lethal. "I'm sorry, too."

"[You're a miserable excuse for a living being,]" Chewbacca growled in disgust.

All their attentions were snapped back to the dining room by Vader's booming voice. "Your Highness, we have unfinished business to discuss." His black mask turned as he gestured, directing Fett forward. "Secure Captain Solo and the Wookiee, but you are not to leave until I am finished. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Fett answered.

Han felt sweat break out at the back of his neck as the bounty hunter headed toward them, a heavy blaster leveled at his chest. Alarmed that they would be separated, he looked to Leia once more to find her full lips had almost disappeared into a grim line, her features pale, her eyes the darkest he'd ever seen them. This wasn't the way things were supposed to end for them—not like this. They were supposed to have a proper goodbye and she was supposed to be far away from this sort of danger. This couldn't be the last time he saw her, not like this, so scared he barely recognized her. He'd sworn to protect her, to keep her monsters at bay, and he was about to fail utterly.

Although no longer caring about his fate—he'd been resigned to that since Ord Mantell—the thought of Leia back in Vader's clutches left Han sick with fear, and he was to blame for everything. It was his fault that his ship had failed, that bounty hunters and the Empire were conspiring together to capture him, and that she was now back at this monster's mercy.

All the things he still wanted to say to her, all the good things he'd ever wished for her, clamored for priority, yet the surge of words overwhelmed him. "Leia…"

Her grip on his hand tightened. "I'll be okay," she lied.


	26. The storm

**Chapter 26 — The storm**

This was another nightmare—it had to be. She needed to wake up now. Here was Han's cue to enter her dream and make it stop; to derail the horror and take her somewhere far away from this pain as she watched as Boba Fett and a squad of stormtroopers marched him and Chewbacca away, leaving her behind with Calrissian and the worst denizen of her darkest dreams.

"Please, Your Highness. Take a seat."

Leia stared at Vader for a long moment before something deep within her, some ingrained bit of diplomatic training, finally kicked in. After all, dignity was all she had left, so she moved into the room and along one side of the table.

Lando began to follow her in, but Vader stopped him at the threshold. "Leave us, Calrissian. You have business to attend to. I recommend you do so."

Calrissian hesitated, as if loathe to leave her alone with this monstrosity, but Leia didn't want him there; she would rather deal with Vader one-on-one than have to look at him anymore. As the doors slid closed following his departure, her eyes locked on the expressionless mask turned toward her. She stopped halfway down the length of the table, one hand coming to rest on the back of a chair—the gesture was meant to appear casual, but it kept her from swaying on her feet.

In surprise, she watched Vader resume his seat, and then indicate with a simple gesture that she should follow suit. "Sit down. We have matters to discuss."

Teeth clenched, Leia remembered their last discussion—she could never forget it—but despite his best interrogation efforts, that 'conversation' had remained very one-sided, something she was determined to repeat. The last time, however, she'd been steadier and more fearless than she felt now, while drawing a chair away from the table and sitting straight-backed on the edge, hands folded in her lap, her heart pounding so hard that he could probably hear it from there. Last time she hadn't guessed yet what was truly at stake. She hadn't known what her defiance would cost.

"You should know that while I find your politics and sympathies misguided at best and extremely dangerous at worst, I respect your tenacity. You are a skilled adversary." His reverberating voice the stuff of her nightmares.

The last thing she expected was a compliment, no matter how back-handed, but if he was expecting her to return the favor, he would have to keep waiting.

Then she felt it—a growing pressure around her, within her, as if someone were leaning into that undefined but instinctual personal space most beings possessed and respected. Vader had not moved from the head of the table, and yet it was as though he were pressing in on her, and instinct made her back away into her chair, trying to clamp down on her fright at the unanticipated, invisible sensation that threatened to smother her senses, filling the air around her.

Before embarking on her brief career in espionage, she'd learned of ways to block out pain; she'd been inoculated against certain drugs and other forms of standard torture and manipulation, and even if she did talk, she had enough misinformation to keep them chasing phantoms for years. After the destruction of Alderaan, there was little else left to leverage against her…and yet somehow this was worse than all that. This was a dark and insidious invasion that sought out wounds in her soul like her tongue would do with a lesion in her mouth, irresistibly returning to explore and prod despite the pain. It touched on her fear for Han, and for the fates of Luke and her other friends; it peeled away scabs from old emotional injuries; it reawakened the guilt and fears that had nearly consumed her at dark times throughout her life—all the insecurities of a child thrust too soon upon the galactic stage, a young woman hopelessly in love, and a leader with too many deaths already on her conscience.

The pressure grew until her head pounded with each pulse of her blood and she almost cried out—not from pain but from the foreignness of it, the sheer power and wrongness of it, for it was also a part of her. Stiffening and searching in desperation for some untapped well of strength, something to make it stop, she envisioned blast doors in her mind—the most effective imagery she could think of—slamming down around her to block out the psychic intrusion. While the effort wasn't enough, she gasped at the small measure of relief it brought.

Vader's helmet cocked to one side, studying her like some curious bird.

As swift as the sensation had engulfed her, it was gone, dissipating like a fine mist. Released, she reached out to grasp the table edge to keep from slumping forward, and a long moment passed, the only sounds that of their breathing, hers as labored as his assisted one.

"Once again you surprise me. This is an unexpected development, but it does begin to explain my error."

Not attempting to disguise her confusion at his statement, she couldn't even begin to imagine what dark thoughts went on behind that mask, or what motivated such a man to admit any sort of mistake, and yet she knew she'd just been measured and reassessed.

"You were not the person I expected to arrive this morning. I suspected you had Force-talent the last time we met, and that was why I prevented your execution on the _Death Star_, but Obi Wan interfered and enabled your escape before I could test you. Your talent is stronger than I imagined. It was you I sensed aboard that freighter."

Stunned and confused, but always having suspected Vader rode the edge of psychosis, Leia wrote off his explanation as nonsense. Luke was the only Force-user she knew, and she was anything but a Jedi—the concept was absurd—but then she processed the rest of his words and almost laughed. Was he expecting her to be _grateful_ for his sparing her life aboard the _Death Star_, when more often than not she's found the guilt of surviving that holocaust the worst blow of all? As a manipulative ploy, it was surprisingly weak and clumsy.

"You'll find the Force works in mysterious ways, Your Highness. I believe you may yet provide me that which I seek."

Bracing herself, preparing for another mental onslaught, she watched Vader rise from his chair and walk along the other side of the table to the entrance, his black cape billowing in his wake. Opening the doors, he summoned one of the stormtroopers standing guard outside. "Take the princess back to her quarters and keep her there until further notice."

Baffled by the entire encounter, she collected her thoughts before standing. She knew better than to believe he was finished with her, but there seemed to be an agenda she'd yet to figure out.

Within minutes Leia was escorted back into the expansive apartment, where a compliment of troopers assumed positions to guard the exit, and although she'd held out a hope of finding Han and Chewie waiting there, the only person occupying the sitting area was a woeful-looking Calrissian. Some rational part of her recognized he was likely just as much a pawn as the rest of them, but she wasn't able to find an iota of pity within her at the moment, and so didn't bother hiding her disgust upon seeing him again. It didn't help that he seemed determined to hover about her like some scavenger, perhaps hoping to pluck her away from the ruins in one last act of betrayal of his friend.

"Where are Han and Chewie?" she demanded without preamble.

Lando swallowed. "Leia…"

"Where are Han and Chewie?" Neither her voice nor her inflection changed, but her dangerous intent was obvious the second time and he took a step back.

"They're being held in detention cells. Lord Vader's planning to…"

"He's planning to _what_?"

The man looked like he couldn't decide whether to be furious or lose his lunch. "He plans to torture them. I can't do anything to stop that now, but we're in negotiations to at least—"

For a reputed con-artist, Calrissian was either remarkably naïve or flat-out delusional in thinking he had any influence. "You're a fool. Vader does not bargain. Get out."

It was the sort of dismissal issued by someone accustomed to having orders obeyed; the sort of command she'd heard others make but had never imagined herself using; the sort that implied he was no longer worthy of her attention. Walking away without sparing him another look, Leia entering the sleeping chamber where the door slid closed behind her. Only then, when she was alone, did she loosen the death-grip she'd been holding on her emotions, and her knees threatened to buckle as her entire body began to shake.

_Han…_

They were going to torture Han, torture Chewie. Tears threatened as she squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her face into her hands, trying to block out the anguish. This was all her fault they would suffer now, all her fault Vader had chased them to this remote outpost and to the limits of their endurance. After all, she was the main reason why they'd become entangled with the Rebellion in the first place, despite their own protests of other priorities, and then stayed on so long that their situation with Jabba became untenable. She was the danger, the curse, and now they would pay like so many others had.

_Han, I'm so sorry…_

It took long moments of deep breathing before her trained mind began taking over once more. Much as it pained her to admit it, Calrissian was right—there was little anyone could do now. This time there would be no help, no handsome knights to charge in to her rescue—her heroes were already either locked up somewhere or light years away, if alive at all. A sliver of hope remained that Han and Chewie might survive this disaster; if the presence of the bounty hunter meant there was a vested interest in keeping them alive, than at least they would be safe until they were delivered to Jabba, at which time he could still beg for leniency. Her fate, on the other hand…

She would die, if not today than very soon. The Emperor would want to capitalize on her recapture; he would stage a public execution to demonstrate what happened to Rebellion saboteurs and spies and traitors. In fact, the Empire would have the distinct pleasure of killing her twice, if one counted the "official" announcement of her death following her capture above Tatooine years ago. There was a certain perverse pleasure in the thought—that even in death she could make the Empire squirm at the inconvenience of having to explain why she was so hard to keep dead.

The possibility of a violent death was a reality she'd accepted the day she started down this path, but what was tougher to accept was the fact that she'd lived on borrowed time for the past four weeks—that from the fateful moment the _Falcon_'s hyperdrive had failed, their destination had been anticipated, their fates already planned. The short eternity spent with Han, a precious gift, had been doomed even before it started. Why hadn't she anticipated this trap? Why hadn't she tried a little harder to find other options?

_Because there were no options, and you _did_ anticipate it. You've felt it for a month._

Vader's recent words echoed through her mind. _You'll find the Force works in mysterious ways, Your Highness._

An inexplicable chill raced through her, making the fine hairs stand at attention.

_Stop it! That's exactly how he's manipulating you. He's making you doubt everything you know._

Only then did she notice her old white thermal suit, now cleaned and folded, lying on a corner of the massive bed before her. Why they had bothered with all the pretense of comfort, the charade of a dinner, the repairing of the _Falcon_? If the Empire had arrived before them, why had it taken Vader a day to spring the trap? Was it all just to keep Calrissian compliant? Some vital bit of information was still missing, but she couldn't find it.

Staring down at her old clothing—the pristine snow-white uniform of a battle fought and lost a life-time ago, it seemed—she then looked down at herself, at the blood-red clothing Calrissian had provided, and her skin itched as if reacting to the fabric.

Reaching an abrupt decision, Leia tore away the white cape of lace from her shoulders. If she was going to die, she would do so as a warrior, and she would be dressed for the part. She would don the armor one last time.

***

Time slowed to a crawl and Leia didn't know which promised to be worse, a Bespin day that seemed to never end, or the inevitable and equally long night to come, spent trapped alone in the apartment. On edge, her senses tingling as if she were some sort of tuning fork that Vader's actions had struck upon and set off in a steady humming, she ignored her aching feet and continued pacing the length of the central lobby window in an attempt to burn off the nervous energy surrounding her.

What was Vader waiting for? That impatient nature of hers just wanted him to get on with it, to end this game. The waiting and the unending fear of what was happening with Han and Chewbacca tore at her—not knowing their fate was a form of torture all its own. That was no doubt the Dark Lord's intention, for he knew from their previous encounter that hurting her directly achieved nothing.

The main entrance door slid open with a hiss and Leia turned to see Lando in the doorway, accompanied by a squad of stormtroopers who were clearly here to retrieve her.

_When will you learn to be careful what you wish for?_

"You're to come with us, Your Highness." It was the first time Calrissian used her title, so he must have learned who she was from Vader, or maybe he'd finally pieced it together for himself.

Silent, she walked past him and the armored troopers assumed formation around them. Fleeting thoughts of grabbing a blaster and attempting one last grand escape occurred to her, but something made her hold back; the same intuition that had kept her from acting prematurely on Ord Mantell, and on Thertur Major, and in a dozen other instances, stayed her hand once more.

Minutes later they reached the narrow corridors of a detention block, and in a moment of absurdity, she discovered there was some color to this city, after all—the walls here were a ruby red and oppressive. As their party was brought to a halt at a juncture of the hallways, Lando stepped off to the side to hold a quiet conversation with the commander of the Imperial soldiers.

That was when she heard it—a sound that seared into her heart and would haunt her until her last breath. It was a long, unchecked scream of agony that made her gasp and spin on her heel toward the desperate cry, knowing it was Han without needing to see or hear anything else—she _knew_ as every fiber of her being cried out in empathic pain.

Perhaps they'd anticipated trouble, for the stormtroopers reacted in an instant when she tried to break away, the nearest two grabbed her arms to restrain her while the others swarmed closer.

"I thought you said they were _done_ with him," Lando said in a furious whisper to the commander.

The Imperial officer shrugged, barely sparing a glance at the man. "Lord Vader has his reasons."

As if summoned by the use of his name, the towering figure of Darth Vader emerged from a few doors down the hallway and headed toward them. The screaming had stopped, but she could hear ragged gasps for breath coming from the cell before the door slid closed, cutting off the sound. It was clear now that the timing of her arrival had been no accident, and hatred welled up within her upon seeing the fiend that seemed determined to destroy every last bit of her existence before putting her out of her own misery; it was all she could do to keep from kicking out in a futile attempt to repay him in kind.

Vader moved past their little group and toward the exit, but then he stopped and turned back to her, his black helmet cocked again at a curious angle like some monstrous gargoyle. Without a word, he then resumed and disappeared around the corner.

Moments later the door opened again and two stormtroopers appeared, dragging Han's limp body between them. His booted toes scuffed the floor as they hauled him across the passageway to another cell before dropping him into the entrance and sealing the door behind him, and then signaling down the hallway toward her group.

"Go on," the commander indicated with a thumb. "You can put her in now."

Leia was yanked forward and marched by force down the corridor, then jerked to a stop in front of the door and shoved in the moment it opened. Staggering to keep her balance, she found Chewbacca already in the cell, helping Han ease back onto an unpadded sleeping platform. For one of the few times in her life, words failed her as she stepped over to Han's side and fell to her knees on the hard decking. He looked ashen, exhausted, and still in great pain. Bringing a hand up to touch his face, as much to reassure herself he was alive as it was to comfort him, she fought back sudden tears as he seemed to relax beneath her touch, his head tipping into her palm.

"Why are they doing this?" she moaned once she found her voice. Convinced she'd never see them again, the fact they were all thrown back together now made no sense and left her off-balance.

"They never even asked me any questions."

Han's simple admission reflected her confusion, for they both knew he was a wealth of Alliance information—the risk he presented to security had become a sore point within High Command as time passed and he'd continued to refuse a commission. Because he lacked the resistance training she'd undergone, he would have little protection if Vader pressed for answers, and she would be unable to shield him if the torture resumed. The fact Vader hadn't bothered to interrogate her was no surprise—he'd tried and failed in the past—but she struggled to see the logic in why Vader was toying with Han like this; Vader was nothing if not a practical megalomaniac, and inflicting pain just because he _could_ wasn't his style. There had always been a method behind his lethal madness in the past, a clear military or political goal to justify his actions, and she searched in desperation for it now.

Combing her fingers through Han's soft hair, Leia bowed and pressed her cheek to his forehead. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Han took a deep breath, no doubt to protest her confession of guilt, but the cell door swished open behind Leia, making her jump and twist around to see Calrissian and two of his city guards enter their cell. Feeling Han stir, she turned back to Han and supplied, "Lando." Although hoping the clarification would be enough to keep him still—he needed to preserve his energy—the spoken name had the opposite effect.

"Get out of here, Lando," Han rumbled as he struggled up onto his elbows, forcing Leia to wedge herself behind him for support once she realized he wasn't going to stay down.

Chewbacca let out a fierce roar that either was beyond her translation skills or was never meant to be anything more than intimidating.

"Shut up and listen," Lando said in an urgent voice, abandoning any pretense of civility. "Vader's agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me."

"Over to you?" Han's voice was hoarse and his tone bewildered.

"They'll have to stay here, but at least they'll be safe."

_Stay here? Safe?_

Leia looked from Chewie to Han and then finally back up at Calrissian. "What about Han?"

"Vader's giving him to the bounty hunter."

She shook her head; the idea that Vader would leave any of them behind under some vague house arrest was absurd—they'd been annoying little stones in the Dark Lord's boot for too long. "Vader wants us all dead."

"He doesn't want you at all! He's after somebody named…Skywalker."

"Luke?!" Han wasn't alone in his shock and confusion.

But then, all at once, that last piece of information—the one missing all this time—fell into place for Leia: Vader's cryptic comments; his uncharacteristic tactics; the bizarre sensations she'd been feeling since their encounter; and the reason they were still alive were all explained. In the span of one breath she'd gone from not even knowing if Luke was still alive to learning that he was on his way, being drawn toward certain death. Vader was somehow using them—using her!—as the homing beacon. She stared up at Lando in horror.

"Lord Vader has set a trap for him," Lando continued.

"And we're the bait," Leia spat out, shaking with anger and grief, devastated by the sweep of it all.

"Yeah, well, he's on his way."

"Perfect. You fixed us all real good, didn't you?" Han muttered. Leia felt Han tense up against her, the fury swelling through him, and he must have found some last reserve of strength because he pulled away from her and rose to stand eye-level with Calrissian. "My friend!"

She should have recognized the signs, should have done something to stop him, but was too late. Like a cornered pantera, Han launched himself at Calrissian and landed a solid sucker punch before anyone else in the cell could react. But his last energy was spent and Han fell to his knees in the follow-through, where the closest guard used the butt of his drawn blaster to strike the back of Han's head. As he collapsed to the floor, any remaining fight gone in an instant, Chewbacca roared again, but the other guard had enough presence of mind to stand out of arms' reach, his blaster pointed unwavering at the Wookiee's chest.

"Stop!" Lando sucked in his breath, nursing his jaw with one hand while holding up the other to keep the guard from kicking at Solo. "I've done all I can. I'm sorry I couldn't do better, but I've got my own problems."

Leia skirted around Lando to reach Han on the floor, and although he let her help him up onto on elbow, he seemed incapable of doing anything more than glare up at Calrissian. She'd seen Han kill out of necessity—seen him act to protect himself and those he cared for—but she didn't doubt he would murder for pleasure right now had he the energy or means.

"Yeah, you're a real hero," Han sneered.

Maybe it was the gambler in him that recognized when to cut his losses, or maybe he was catching on that his presence was not welcome, but in any case Lando gave them one last look of pity before heading for the door, his guards covering his back as they followed him out.

Han sagged back and Chewbacca was right there to keep him from falling to the floor and doing any more damage to the back of his head. Feeling ready to collapse as well, she had to settle for sitting back on her heels as there was no one left to catch her. Han groaned in pain and shrugged a stubborn shoulder, resisting their efforts to help, then his eyes found hers and he offered the most pathetic smile she'd ever received from him, but seeing it made her heart ache all over again.

"You certainly have a way with people," she teased in a tired voice. As if their situation wasn't bad enough, as if he hadn't already endured enough pain, he'd also likely earned himself a concussion by punching Lando. She sincerely hoped it was worth the price.


	27. The leaving

**Chapter 27 — The leaving**

_He's alive…_

Brutal hands gripped Leia's upper arms, hauling her up the flight of grated metal steps, across the catwalk that bridged a series of massive pipelines, and then down the other side. Barely registering the rough treatment, or Threepio babbling in the background about modern carbon-freezing technology, neither did she notice the distinct taste of copper in her mouth from when she'd bitten her lip as the solid slab of carbonite containing Han Solo was tipped over and slammed onto the deck with a mighty crash. What did seep into her awareness was that the numbness she wished for was incomplete—that she was all too aware of the agony of her soul ripped in two, of her head throbbing, of her eyes burning from carbonite fumes and unshed tears.

As they emerged back out into the antiseptic white corridor, leaving the hellish steam and vapors behind, Leia hesitated and squinted up into the sudden wash of blinding sunlight.

…_and in perfect hibernation._

This was worse than any nightmare because nightmares didn't last this long. She awoke from nightmares more or less back to normal, but this unbearable day stretched on and on, and she knew nothing would ever be the same again.

_He's alive…_

One of the soldiers shoved her from behind with the broadside of his blaster rifle, hard enough that she stumbled and almost collided into the Imperial commander ahead of her, his dark grey uniform like a wall blocking her path. With a curt gesture, he began leading the squad of stormtroopers down the hallway.

"[Touch her again and I will rip your head off,]" Chewbacca snarled at the offending trooper. To occupy his time while waiting in his cell, Chewie had tried his hand at repairing Threepio, but he'd managed little more than reattaching and reactivating the head and one arm before their captors had returned to take them to the carbon-freezing chamber. The golden droid was now gathered up in a cargo net slung over the Wookiee's strong shoulders, getting a backwards view of the events unfolding, and fretting as Chewie tested the restraints around his brawny arms, muscles bulging beneath his long hair.

The fact that Calrissian was the only person who reacted to Chewbacca's threat made it obvious that none of the others understood the Wookiee. "Tell your men to ease off," Lando warned while giving her a renewed look of concern.

Leia wished him death.

_No, not death. Worse._

"I don't need your sympathy." Her voice felt flat and cold, frozen like a Hoth glacier. Lando was leading them through the city toward Vader's shuttle, while the bounty hunter had already taken away Han's body…

_He's alive!_

…to his own ship, to be delivered up, like some frozen commodity, to Jabba the Hutt.

"She's an enemy of the Empire and a terrorist. You're in no position to make demands," the Imperial commander responded in a superior tone. "And shut that Wookiee up before I do."

Calrissian's expression turned into a silent plea for all of them to stay calm. "Unless you want a berserker Wookiee on your hands, I'm warning you to control your men. I _know_ him."

The officer sneered at Lando. "You're lucky Lord Vader hasn't arrested you for associating with these traitors. We know you're siphoning off a percentage to sell on the Black Market to this kind of scum. The Mining Guild and their lot will not protect you."

Lando blanched, but Leia had stopped caring about any of that; instead she tried to focus on calming the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm her, knowing she needed to rein in the pain that was only serving Vader's purposes. Recognizing now that what he'd said was true—she could feel it even though she didn't understand and didn't _want_ to understand, but it was there, surrounding her, vibrating through her. She could almost see it, like heat waves rippling the air on a hot summer day.

Luke was here already, in the city with them, and growing closer—she could sense that as well. Part of her rejoiced at the confirmation that he was alive, at feeling his vibrant presence once again, so familiar and comforting, but she suspected he felt their connection as well, and she feared it was drawing him deeper into Vader's trap.

_Luke, go away! Please, leave now!_

The fear of losing her best friend, along with Han, threatened to consume what little calm she had left. Why wouldn't the men in her life _listen_ to her? Was she doomed to lose them all to their own chivalry?

Desperation made her reach out with those same senses in an attempt to find Han, to feel his essence as well, but there was nothing; no recognizable signature, none of the radiant aura might have associated with him. Why could she sense Luke and yet be denied…?

_He's alive…and in perfect hibernation._

Still struggling to understand, Leia marched with the rest in tense silence as they headed toward a bank of turbo lifts. Without warning, the sharp whine of a blaster bolt echoed from the corridor behind them, and a part of their entourage of troopers dropped back to engage in battle, while the officer swung around to grab her arms before she could make a move. Frantic, Leia resisted and tried to see beyond the backs of the line of soldiers, knowing it was Luke at the other end, just as sure as she'd known it was Han earlier in the detention block.

"Luke! Luke, don't—!"

The commander almost yanked her off her feet as he pulled her into the closest open lift. Despite his clear advantage in height and muscle, desperation gave her new strength as she let out a roar of her own. Throwing out her hands to grab the threshold of the lift doors, she pulled herself out far enough to catch a glimpse of khaki overalls and familiar blond hair through the sparks and smoke from flying laser bolts. "It's a trap! It's a trap!"

Multiple hands seized her this time and she was hauled back inside the lift, then the troopers slammed her back against the inside wall with a jolt hard enough that she failed to stifle a cry of pain when her shoulder and head connected with the surface.

With a deafening roar, Chewbacca flung his arms up in an attempt to break free from the bonds around his wrists; it was enough to make everyone trapped inside the confines of the lift—including her—cringe away in mortal fear. As the Wookiee reared back, Threepio banged against the wall with a loud clang and let out his own wail of distress, adding to the din. Leia had come to know Chewie well over the years, seeing him under pressure during countless heavy fire fights and hazardous flying conditions, but she'd never seen him like this. At this rate he would get himself killed out of hand, all because of her, and she was certain she couldn't bear that on top of everything else.

Clutching her bruised shoulder, head suddenly throbbing, it took all Leia's resolve to fight back tears of hopelessness as she pleaded, "Chewie, stop! _Please!_ Don't do this."

"[Han expects me to—]"

"You can't if you're dead! _Please_, just stop! I'll be okay."

His huge frame trembled with rage as he strained against his arm cuffs, but those sky-blue eyes had found hers now, and she could sense him beginning to ease away from the edge of madness. With a deliberate breath, Leia willed him to breathe along with her, and was mildly surprised when he did just that.

"Fucking Wookiees," the officer muttered, eying them both with contempt. "They aren't worth the trouble."

Ignoring everything else, she had found a purpose and stayed locked on Chewie's gaze like a tractor beam. "Do you remember Ord Mantell?"

Chewbacca took another deep breath, and then nodded. "[I remember. I had to rescue you both.]"

"That's right. You kept a cool head and saved us just in time. Remember Thertur Major?"

His massive shoulders drooped as he began to relax. "[Yes, I had to rescue you both as well, before—]"

"Shut up, the both of you!"

Leia did shut up, and while she directed her most lethal gaze at the officer, she had achieved what she'd set out to do, creating an eye within the storm in which she could clear her head and calm the tempest of emotions radiating from her companion.

Although he was no longer close, she could also still sense Luke, and could only hope her warning had been enough to keep him from falling into Vader's snare.

_Please, not Luke, too._

The lift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open.

"Out," the commander ordered.

As they moved followed him into a foyer, Leia noticed Calrissian lingering in the elevator, letting them all leave first before falling in behind. No doubt he intended to slink off and disappear before these soldiers made good on their threat to arrest him. It was entirely possible he would take the _Falcon_ and run while he could, and maybe that had been his plan all the long; it would explain why he'd assigned his best technicians to do real repairs to the ship, all gratis. He'd already known from the beginning that a means of fast escape might be necessary, and this allowed him to reclaim the _Falcon_ in the bargain—and there it was, the con they'd all suspected he was working.

The bitter irony of the scheme made her ache all over again. What she wouldn't give to be locked up in the _Falcon_'s cabin at that moment, kidnapped by a better class of scoundrel determined to steal her away to the farthest reaches of…

_I love you._

_I know._

The flashback caused Leia's entire body to twitch, but it didn't stop there: the last stolen moments of wordless intimacy as they'd held one another in the detention cell; Han's desperate last kiss; his valiant attempt to be brave for them both; the instant when his expression has changed into something like resignation as he'd gazed up at her from the dropping platform, as if satisfied to know she would be the last thing he ever saw.

Feeling her body begin to tremble, Leia sucked in a harsh breath and tried to quell her nerves. The minutes were running down for her as well, draining away with each step she took, and once aboard Vader's ship, for better or worse, it would be over. But at least she did have those memories of better times, however fleeting, something no one could take away from her. At least she'd known real happiness for a little while; she'd known and shared someone's love, which was more than anything she'd come to expect in this life, and that would provide the strength she needed now to be ready for what came next.

"Wait, you're taking the long route," Lando called out from behind them.

The commander glowered, bringing them all to a halt. "I know where the shuttle is docked, Calrissian."

Passing the group, Lando joined him at the front of the procession. "But that'll take us through the busiest part of the city, right when the evening traffic is picking up. There'll be crowds, and we don't want the attention."

"Very well. But it'd better be fast. Lord Vader is not a patient man."

"Don't worry. My men have cleared the hallways."

As Lando led them down an adjoining passageway, it was true that the halls were vacant of curious bystanders, and the wide intersection they approached was lined by at least a dozen of Cloud City's guards, all standing at attention and blocking the alternate routes. Sparing no more than a cursory glance as she passed by, Leia saw there would be no opportunity of escape—every avenue was cut off.

Without warning, the native guards drew their blasters and closed in from all sides. Outnumbered and surprised, the stormtroopers surrendered without firing a shot, handing over their blaster rifles to Lando as he moved through the squad collecting weapons. Lobot, his cybernetic headpiece blinking red in the white-washed hallway, stepped forward for further instructions as Lando passed the arms to men within his own guard.

"Well done," Lando said in a tight whisper. "Hold them in the security tower—and keep it quiet! Move."

Stunned, Leia watched as Lobot led the guards and their new prisoners away at a quick march, leaving her, Chewbacca with his chattering passenger, and Calrissian behind.

Wasting no time, all business, Lando shoved the two remaining blaster rifles into her hands and turned to start working at undoing Chewie's cuffs.

Juggling the heavy weapons, her head hurting terribly now and making it difficult to think, she stared in bafflement. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We're getting out of here."

"I knew all along," Threepio exclaimed in unwarranted relief. "Had to be a mistake."

Stepping around to glare at him, Leia didn't bother hiding her distaste and skepticism. "Do you think that after what you did to Han, we're going to trust you?"

Calrissian's severe miscalculation regarding the measure of their gratitude was revealed a moment later when he unlocked Chewbacca's restraints; the Wookiee let out an ear-ringing bellow before surging forward, his massive hands grabbing the man by the neck. Lando fumbled in a futile attempt to pry them away, but Chewie's arms were sturdier than tree trunks; throbbing veins grew visible on Calrissian's forehead as his eyes bulged, while Leia observed, devoid of any sympathy.

"What are you doing? Trust him, trust him!" Threepio wailed.

"I had no choice—" Calrissian croaked out in a desperate attempt to plead his case as he fell to his knees, his face purpling.

"[I'm going to enjoy this.]" The fact that Lando was still alive enough to struggle, that his neck wasn't already snapped, was evidence that Chewie was taking his time.

Giving in to her own wrath, Leia glared at Han's old 'friend'. "Oh, we understand, don't we, Chewie? He had no choice."

"[We always have choices, Princess,]"Chewbacca replied, his cool response at odds with his actions."[Wouldn't you agree? I'm making one right now.]"

"—just trying to help—"

"We don't need any of your help," Leia spat back.

Much as she wanted to let Chewbacca enjoy his revenge, they didn't have the luxury of dragging this out much longer. Straightening up and glancing around, Leia redirected her attention to assess their new situation. This was just the sort of opportunity they needed. All the guards were gone and the city was not occupied by Imperial forces, not yet; with most of the Imperial shore detail secreted away to the brig and Vader already preoccupied, they could very well pull this off. But she had no clue where they were in relation to the _Falcon_ or any other mode of escape. What they needed was a fast way off the mining colony before the alarm went out and more troops could land.

If only she knew for sure that Luke would be okay, that he had heeded her warning. A desperate part of her wanted to use that mysterious link to track him down and bring him along, but she also knew Vader waited at the other end of that link as well, like a spinner lying in wait for his prey, and to follow that thread would only land them all back in his deadly grasp.

Lando was straining for air. "H-a-a-a…H-a-a-n."

Leia swung back, her anxious train of thought shattered. "What?"

"It sounds like Han," Threepio supplied, his twee voice anxious.

Chewbacca's grip must have eased off just enough to allow Lando to choke out between gasps for air. "There's still a chance to save Han…at the East Platform…"

_A chance to save Han?_

While a part of her didn't trust this man any further than she could levitate him, it was that damned sixth sense of hers that suddenly chimed in, and a flood of hope and adrenaline surged through her, although tempered by reality. Managing an escape would be challenging enough, but turning it into a rescue mission could jeopardize what little advantage they had. Looking up at Chewbacca, Leia searched his reaction, needing his input, and found the answer she was looking for—they had to try.

"Chewie," she said. It was the simplest of orders, but he understood and obeyed in an instant by releasing Calrissian. They both turned and ran down the corridor, not bothering to assist Lando as he fell forward onto his hands, panting.

Handing one of the rifles to Chewbacca before they reached the end of the hallway, Leia emerged from the passage and found herself standing on a curved balcony outside the building. It wrapped around the tall tower, offering a vertigo-inducing view of the city below as a stiff wind washed over her. The sun had finally begun to set, the long day ending as the reds and oranges took over in a dramatic swath of color.

Leia stopped, not knowing which way to go. "East platform?" she asked, unable to hide her desperation, knowing each delay cost precious seconds they couldn't afford.

Chewbacca hesitated as well, glancing around. "[I'm not sure. Do you think he meant this building or another?]"

Lando caught up just then, still massaging his throat. "It's this building. Come on, this way." He sprinted down the walkway and they fell in behind him.

Moments later, as they raced past another entrance, Leia heard a familiar whistle that made her skid to a halt and turn back, heart thudding.

"Artoo! Artoo! Where have you been?" Threepio cried out in joy before Chewbacca spun around to join her.

Rolling toward them from down another abandoned corridor was the lone, squat, well-known astrotech droid.

"Luke!" she cried out, feeling a surge of optimism as she searched the empty corridor behind the droid, but her emotions crashed an instant later when he didn't appear. In all the confusion and her headache, the tenuous connection she'd felt with Luke had faded, the sensation of life around her dimming to little more than a dull buzz in the background, and she had no time to wonder why or try to find it again. Frustrated to lose that link just when she needed it most, Leia clutched at her weapon and returned to the task at hand.

There was a choice to be made and she had to go with the option most likely to succeed. It was clear that Luke was on a collision course with Darth Vader—Vader was on the hunt and maybe Luke had even come here seeking a confrontation. If she could still sense that darkness pulsing around them, even now, then surely Luke could as well. Having witnessed the ease with which Vader had dealt with Han's lethal blaster fire, there was little assistance she could offer Luke at this point, other than to pray he knew what he was doing. Han, on the other hand, was helpless and no longer of any interest to Vader…

_He's alive…_

With a deep ache in her chest, Leia made her decision and swung away to chase after Calrissian, with Chewbacca close on her heels.

They rounded a bend on the balcony and passed under an overhanging roof that took them back inside the building. The new corridor was lined with windows, and through them she spotted a circular docking platform in the distance, similar to the one they'd landed on that morning. There was a battered and scored Firespray-31-class gunship perched on the landing strip, hunch-backed and lethal-looking, like some menacing predator waiting to pounce, and then she saw the familiar Mandalorian armor of Boba Fett, mounting the entrance ramp as it began rising to seal up behind him. He was leaving.

_No, no, no!_

"We have to hurry!" she cried as they ran past the last windows and entered another wide foyer, only to find a massive blast door blocking her way. "Come on!" she demanded as Lando stopped to punch in a code on the door controls.

It only took a few seconds before the door began to rise, but it felt like an eternity. Not waiting until the shield door was up all the way, Leia ducked under and dashed out onto the walkway that led to Fett's ship.

But time had run out. The engines were already flaring, sending waves of heat rolling toward her, distorting the air as the ship began to lift up and rotate above the platform. Whether it was pure instinct or sheer frustration that made Chewbacca fire his blaster rifle at the ship, the effort was wasted; the ship's shields deflected the diminutive energy bolts with ease. Engines glowing hot orange, the craft turned away, threatening to incinerate them with its backwash exhaust before, with a mighty shuddering rumble, the bounty hunter's ship blasted off into the darkening sky.

Numb hands falling to her sides, blaster forgotten, Leia stared up in mute disbelief as the ship shrank away to little more than a pinpoint of bright light, like a star in the night, before winking out as it left the atmosphere.

Just like that, he was gone. She was too late.

_Han…_

Bolts of blaster fire sizzled past her, but she didn't flinch, didn't even register them. Irrational fear—an absurd terror that if she turned her back, she might lose Han for good—kept Leia from moving. If she refused to move, she could still trace that invisible flight path and follow them somehow, could still…

"Leia!" It was Lando yelling behind her, his voice a desperate plea. Their escape was no longer a secret as a handful of stormtroopers had arrived to lay down fire.

For just the briefest of moments, despair threatened to take over; the sort of despair that had made her ignore the evacuation order on Hoth, when she'd believed both Han and Luke were gone forever from her life. She'd been wrong then because Han had reappeared to save her from her own demons.

_He's alive…and he needs you now._

"Leia, come on!"

Red blasts of lethal energy ripped through the air around her.

Maybe that kernel of hope, the one planted so long ago by Han when there had seemed little reason to fight on, had indeed germinated and taken hold—refusing to be uprooted now, it instead bent like a sapling with the maelstrom and snapped back just as strong.

Han was still alive, and that meant there was still hope of rescuing him somehow. This was nothing more than a setback, another challenge to overcome, and what Han needed most was for her to be strong, to charge in to the rescue like he'd done so many times, and save him from the very real demons that held him now. This was not the time to fall apart or give up.

Breathing hard, filled with a new determination, Leia swung the laser rifle up to grip it in both hands once more.

She knew what she needed to do.

END


End file.
